


Professional

by heatherfile



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Knotting, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex Magic, Untainted Justice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherfile/pseuds/heatherfile
Summary: “Andraste's Knickerweasels!, what’s the meaning of this?”Anders exclaimed as his eyes wandered down to lower halves of the two warriors who were awkwardly standing outside of the clinic. There was an unneglectable bulge in each warrior’s groin. “If it’s some new means you came up with to disturb me, you two have succeeded spectacularly. Now would you kindly take you and your… impressive personalities and leave my clinic?”Rejuvenate spell has a serious side-effect.---Eventual Anders/Fenris with background Carver/Merrill
Relationships: Anders/Carver Hawke, Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age), Carver Hawke/Merrill
Comments: 10
Kudos: 73





	1. Professional

**Author's Note:**

> So, in Fate series, there is this concept that mages can transfer mana by having sex. I wanted to see that in Dragon Age setting. 
> 
> Be aware, typical and overly convenient plot devices ahead. ;)

“Andraste's Knickerweasels!, what’s the meaning of this?”

Anders exclaimed as his eyes wandered down to lower halves of the two warriors who were awkwardly standing outside of the clinic. There was an unneglectable bulge in each warrior’s groin. “If it’s some new means you came up with to disturb me, you two have succeeded spectacularly. Now would you kindly take you and your… impressive personalities and leave my clinic?”

“Don’t make it worse, mage.” Fenris growled, avoiding the healer’s eyes. 

Anders looked alternately at Fenris and Carver and suddenly covered his mouth with a gasp. 

“Oh, could it be that you two…?”

“NO! Of course not! Never!” The younger warrior bristled. 

“ _Kaffas_ , I told you that it was pointless.” Fenris turned and tried to leave, as he waddled a few steps away, with another curse, he returned. 

“Effect of yet another foul magic,” then the elf relented slightly and continued. “We… would like to ask for treatments.”

Anders gave him an incredulous look. 

“Just… Let me explain.” Then Carver began with a sigh. 

It was supposed to be an easy job. The Hawke siblings were still short of money for the expedition to the Deep Roads, and a bounty placed on slavers seemed to be a timely opportunity. Marian and the party lay in wait keeping an eye on the suspicious caravels recently docked at the Wounded Coast. Then they easily caught the scene of slavers trying to ferry the captives. 

Unsuspecting thugs didn’t stand a chance against the ambush, and Hawke quickly neutralised the faces she recognised from the wanted list. Even the mages among the gang seemed half-fledged, flinging around spells aimlessly with clumsy movements. When the party was dealing with little force remained and the battle almost brought to an end, Carver and Fenris were shot by a scarlet burst sent by a slaver mage. The elf felt his blood rushing down south and staggered. 

“Pull yourself together!” shouted Hawke as she backstepped the mage and the sparks of another impending spell dissolved. At the same time, Bethany raised a wall of spiky ice around her brother, who suddenly sunk to his knees. “Are you hurt, brother?”

The young warrior barely stood using his maul as support and Marian finished off the last slaver with an exaggerated slash across his neck. “Think that’s the last of 'em.” Flicking off the remains of thugs on her new armour, the rogue asked. “Are you ok, Carver? You don’t look well. And Fenris, Why are you holding your sword like that? the battle is over.”

“I…” Fenris fidgeted, holding his greatsword in front of him. 

“You’re hurt, aren’t you! I won’t send you immediately to Anders, so let me see the wound.” 

Marian tried to remove the sword, and Fenris stepped back. “There is really no need for you to…” But Marian snatched the sword away and spotted a bulge from the elf’s leggings. 

“What’s wrong?” Came a worrying voice from Bethany. “Do you need healing? I’m not that skilled of a healer, but I can help.”

Hawke shoved the sword back to Fenris and swiftly covered her sister's eyes. 

“Carver, you too?” gestured Hawke with her head. Carver nodded with his hands covering his face. 

“I, I will take care of the loots and captives. You two, back to Kirkwall, NOW!”

The long walk back to Kirkwall was dreadful for the two warriors. The weather was chilly and both of them were exhausted but the prominent arousal just wouldn’t go away. As both warriors weren’t exactly in good terms with magic, they hoped for the problem to solve itself, but the long walk back to Kirkwall and the agony it brought proved them wrong. By the time the city came into sight, both struggling men were huffing and puffing. As they made into the city, it was already dark and even the ominous Twins of Kirkwall looked welcoming. 

“Just do whatever and make it go away!” Carver got more and more irritated telling the story and by the end of it, he was almost yelling. He suspected that Anders would make some insulting remarks but Anders’ attitude was quite the opposite. Carver could see that Anders was naming the symptoms while listening just like a physician would do when checking on their patients. 

“Hmm… A scarlet burst, you said? Does it resemble something like this?” Anders said after a brief contemplation and sent a small spark with a tint of light orange. 

Avoiding the spell, Fenris answered. “Yes. But the sparks were dense and the colour seemed much deeper.”

Anders thought for a moment and brightened up. “That’s it!”

“Just tell us whether it’s reversible or not!” Carver grumbled. 

“Oh, it is. It seems like whoever cast the spell upon you was a novice.” Anders stuck his head out to check if any patients were waiting and seeing an empty hallway, he put out the lanterns with a finger-snap.

“Come in. I’ll explain how the treatment works.”

Anders pulled out his grimoire and gestured at empty cots. “Take a seat.” Then he went through the pages of his old book. The warriors sat down and stared at the mage sceptically.

“Ah, here it is!” He tapped on one point and scanned through the page. “That sorry excuse of a mage probably didn’t even mean to cast it upon you.” Then the mage started to read from his grimoire.

“Rejuvenate. Type: creation. Increase one’s mana or stamina regeneration. Side effect: Overcharged upon non-mage, might cause congestion, insomnia, priapism. Etcetera, etcetera” Hearing their symptoms the elf and human sitting on the cot exchanged looks. Confirmed that each other was still completely clueless, their gaze wandered back to the healer. 

“Excessive stamina can be effectively absorbed from the sufferer by exchanging body fluid with a mage through their mucous membranes. During the...”

“By what?” Fenris started to his feet. “I won’t let you draw any blood from my body.”

Anders put his hand on the elf’s shoulder and gave a slight squeeze to calm him down. Then he gently guided the upset man back to the cot with a reassuring nod, as if he was soothing a nervous patient before an operation.

“Oh, no worries.” Anders gently stepped back. “Excuse us archivers for using overly colourful terms. Namely sexual intercourse. The all the absorbing stamina by doing... something something that is.” He ended with a little ‘ahem’ and made a polite smile. 

“Namely what?” Carver was utterly confused. “If… if we don’t go with your ‘treatment’, then what? Surely It would go away sooner or later?” Now Carver was blushing furiously. 

“It will. But judging by your age and metabolism, I would say maybe a week later?”

“A week?” Carver and Fenris both exclaimed. There was a moment of silence. Anders walked away and placed his grimoire back on the small bookshelf bolted above his writing desk. And he rearranged his desk as if giving time for the troubled patients to consider. 

“So…” Fenris was the first to break the silence. “So could you be the mage to… to do the, I mean-” Anders was the only mage he knew other than Bethany, minus the blood ritual performing formal magisters back from Tevinter and he didn’t want to even think of himself asking apostates around for sex. 

“Of course. I’m the healer after all.” Fenris was a bit taken aback by the healer’s readily reply. While he was trying to make sense of what was going on, Anders turned to Carver. 

“And you, Carver?”

“I… need more time to think,” Carver said with his eyes cast down. 

“Fair enough.” Anders gave a knowing nod and offered a hand to Fenris. “I think it would be better if I treated you in… somewhere with more privacy.” 

Fenris stood without taking the healer’s hand. “Yes.” 

“Then follow me,” Anders said with a courteous smile and walked to the back room and opened the door for Fenris. 

In the room, Fenris sat on a cot (which he suspected was Anders’ bed) and fidgeted tensely. The lingering shock that came from the announcement of the treatment slowly faded and his irresistible arousal was coming back. After he fully realised what he was about to do with the healer, everything about the room and the man within invaded the elf’s senses. He was too aware of the scent of various herbs and a faint musk coming from the human in front of him, who was now finding something with his back turned to Fenris. He could make out the contour of the other man’s arse when he bent and his own cheeks felt like burning. 

“Found it!” Anders turned with a vial and Fenris looked right into the healer’s golden eyes. Fenris almost reached out for the healer but he caught himself as Anders started to talk.

“It’s going to need lubrication so… Sorry that I kept you waiting.” 

Anders’ tone didn’t change, the way he spoke was clear and soft just like a doctor who knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“May I take a look?” And Anders knelt beside the cot, helped out the elf taking off his leggings. As the healer peeled his underclothes, Fenris’ longtime neglected member sprung out, fully swollen and slightly dripping. 

“You walked all the way back to Kirkwall like this? That’s some endurance, I’ll give you that.” Anders continued neutral small talks as if he was assuring that it was merely a treatment and nothing more. “I’ll explain the procedure and the necessity of this treatment” Anders continued. Everything he said sounded like something from a consent from a chantry infirmary brother might instruct patients before surgery. The only difference being the one who’s doing this instructing is now only a few inches above Fenris’ cock. The elf could barely make out anything he was being told. 

“Can’t you just get on with… this?” Fenris gestured down at his dark red member. 

“Oh, yes, yes. Then I will continue while preparing myself, would that be okay?” 

Fenris nodded with more eagerness than he hoped to show, and Anders swiftly took off his trousers. Fenris didn’t know if it was a good thing that the oversized coat and that hideous rag of a shirt were still covering the lower parts of healer’s body.

Anders opened the half-full vial and poured out some oils onto his fingers. After warming it a bit on his palm, he took his hand back to his rear. Fenris heard a small rustle as the healer yanked his own coat. “Then about the lubricant, It consists of…” Anders went on talking but this time, there were pauses and occasional gasps between his speeches and the squishy sound he made with his hands almost made Fenris feel dizzy.

“I said are you allergic to any herb?” Fenris came to his senses as he noticed a hint of annoyance from the mage’s talk. “No. None.” Fenris answered and saw what little arousal showed upon the healer’s expressions was again gone and Anders came back to being a professional healer. 

“Then, there you have it. Do you agree with-”

Fenris snapped. “Yes, Yes to _everything_ you have said. I give my full consent. just seat yourself on me.”

Fenris wanted to grab the mage and ravish him. But as that thought came into elf’s mind, he suddenly grew nervous. This was the first sex he was going to have outside of Tevinter, not as some slave used by their master. Fenris wasn’t sure if himself was ready for this. Sex was supposed to involve feelings and affections among free men, right? Did he want to do it with this mage in front of him? The mage who seemed to regard this ‘treatment’ in the same way as tying tourniquets or realigning bones. 

“M, Mage. Have you done this before?” Fenris stopped Anders as the healer turned his back to the elf and was about to yank his coat up. Even Fenris himself wasn't sure why he chose to ask this question. 

After a short stillness, the mage answered. “I’m an experienced healer. Don’t worry, you are in good hands.”

Fenris didn’t know what to feel about the answer. As he was still lost in his own thoughts, he felt a slick hand on his long time neglected member and everything that was on his mind evaporated and was replaced by sudden pleasure. After a few long strokes, the mage slowly guided the other man’s arousal into himself. The Mage’s entrance was deliciously tight and Fenris felt gradually encroached by the lewd hotness as the mage lowered further.

“Do you feel all right? If something hurts or if you’re uncomfortable, let me know.” Glancing back over his shoulder, the mage asked attentively.

Fenris barely managed an affirmative answer between gasps and the mage started to set a steady pace riding the elf’s cock. Fenris was drowned in the ebb and flow of mesmerising sensation and the prolonged ache slowly toothed. As he was getting used to the rhythm and gradually gaining back control of his own senses and body, he felt the warmth abruptly left with a sharp gasp coming from the mage. 

Fenris looked up and saw the mage awkwardly holding himself above the elf, panting heavily. “S, Sorry. It’s the mana you’re giving me. It’s... too much.” With Anders’ back turned to him, Fenris couldn’t see the other man’s face but his ears were all flushed. 

Fenris placed one hand on the mage’s pelvis, and reached out the other to his groin and found out that the mage’s member is now erect and leaking. “Aren’t you enjoying yourself too much while operating?” Fenris caressed it and the mage flushed deeper and bowed his head in embarrassment. “Come on, your patient still needs your help.”

Anders nodded slightly and grabbed his patient’s cock and aligned it to his own entrance with now trembling hands. As the cock fully sunk in, Fenris lifted Anders and lay down himself and the mage sideways. With a sudden change of angle, Anders let out a loud moan. “Perhaps you need a little aid from your patient.” Fenris lifted one of the healer’s legs and began to fuck him frantically. 

“Ah! You don’t really have to… Oh, Maker!” Anders tried to raise himself upon his elbow. “I can manage it... myself.” But the other man clutched him around the neck and tilted his head.

“Just give. in. mage.” then the warrior gave a little nip on the healer’s ear. 

“Oh… no… Why does it feel so… good.” Anders leaned closer and tried to grind his hip more to the man behind him. 

“So needy and avaricious. Just like every other mage.” Fenris murmured huskily and continued to plunge himself into the mage. The two men lost themselves to pleasure and a while later with a barely muffled cry, Anders arched his back. Fenris felt a strong squeeze on himself and came, feeling acute ecstasy rushing over him. 

Fenris drained himself into the mage then let go of his harsh clutch on the mage’s leg. Still lying connected and panting, Fenris enjoyed lingering aftertaste of sex. Then he felt an elbow nudging him. “Hey, you didn’t say you knot!” As Fenris recognized what the mage was talking about, he tried to get himself up and Anders let out a startled yelp. “Don’t move you bastard, your knot is brushing over- Ah! just, lie down.” 

Fenris lay down and Anders went limp against him and let out a long sigh. “I told you everything you should mind and you didn’t tell me this one thing that does matter.” 

“Out of everyone, I thought you should be the one to know that elves knot!” Fenris bit back.

“But not all the elves knot and even if they do, it doesn’t happen every time, and you know it!” Anders said, trying to turn back and face the other man but both of them groaned as they felt a tug on their connection. 

“Ugh! Just stay still.” Fenris snarled and Anders relaxed down on his side with another sigh. Fenris raised his hand and hesitantly wrapped it around Anders’ waist. Once it fell silent, Fenris was surprised that it felt almost peaceful and pleasant. Close to a warm body, hearing a steady heartbeat, it was all alien yet inexplicably familiar. 

“I… can try to reduce the knot with my magic.” Anders said sheepishly after a while. “It’s still pressing against the spot and I-”

“No.” The answer came immediately. “No magic. We wait it out.” 

Fenris felt like he was missing out something but couldn’t remember what it was. No matter how hard he tried to recall, there were just vague images dancing from a distance. Chasing his own thoughts, some time passed and he felt his knot started to deflate.

Then there was a loud banging on the door. 

“Are you guys done yet? I don’t want to be the one to tell Hawke that you killed each other during sex.” 


	2. Work Ethic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders tries to heal Carver and Carver has something else that should be healed.

Seeing two men disappear into the back room, Carver thought back on his first and almost certainly last visit to the Blooming Rose. 

  
  
  


Repaying debt for being in Kirkwall was actually harder than he had thought. At first, he was the one to scold his older sister to stop whining and think of their mother. How hard could a year working as a mercenary be? He has survived Ostagar after all, anything would be easier than fleeing a lost battle. But little did he know that the real suffering didn’t come from life-risking missions but from seeing their wages cut down to a few silvers. Every time he saw Meeran dropping just a few coins on his sister’s hand from a full purse, Carver swore one day he would knock the man’s head off his neck. 

But their life of servitude did eventually come to an end and there came the day that his sister placed a full sovereign on each siblings’ hands. “You’ve earned it. Spend it on whatever you want.” Bethany bought herself a new pair of shoes and a scarf which she has been eyeing for months. Marian got herself a new cuirass and gladly threw away her worn out vest. Well, Carver found himself in front of Blooming Rose. 

Carver somewhat hated himself for spending his hard-earned coin in a brothel, but frustration has been building up since he joined the Fereldan army and after almost a year, he grew fairly desperate. “I’ll go with standard service.” and he handed the coin to Madam Lusine. 

Long story  _ short _ , his pride got severely wounded. 

“I… can tell Madam that I have mistaken it as a cheap service.” The elven girl was being considerate but Carver hastily left without a backward glance. 

  
  
  


Carver shuddered at the memory and thought of the ‘treatment’ that Anders offered. He feels like If he embarrasses himself a second time in front of this healer, he might never be able to heal the damage done to his ego. However, on second thought, what he’s suffering now was priapism right? Surely it can’t go as bad as last time. 

His train of thought broke as he heard a moan behind the closed door, followed by a few thumps. 

Carver bit his lip. At least Anders seemed to possess the work ethic to not reveal his patients’ confidences. This could be a chance. 

A while later he heard something almost like a scream and all went quiet. ‘Oh well, no more hesitation for me.’ Carver thought and waited for the door to open. - for twenty minutes.

‘Oh good, now I have to go back and tell Hawke that her precious healer and elf died an... unmentionable death - with a boner. I love my life.’

He knocked on the door and shouted at two men inside. After a moment, the door abruptly opened and the elf hurriedly brushed past Carver’s curious glance. 

“What’s his problem?” Carver said stepping into the room and his eyes went wide at the sight. “Shit… I mean, Maker.”

Anders was laid on his side, naked from his waist down, and his face was still flushed. “Sorry for the mess...” Still slightly panting, Anders shifted to sit up and Carver was already climbing onto the cot. 

“Let’s just pick up right where he left off. Shall we?” Seeing the mage still aroused, Carver’s confidence rose quickly. He reached for the other man’s collars. “Let me take this off for you.” 

“But I was supposed to give you instructions beforehand.” Anders looked up at the younger warrior who was now unfastening his own belt. “Then tell me what to do as we go along.” Carver pulled down his trousers and gave himself a few strokes. “So, What to do next?”

Anders handed Carver the vial with lubricant. “Coat yourself with it.” Carver followed, dripping liquid from the vial and spreading it on his length. “And then?” the younger man gave a crooked grin.

“Andraste’s tits, you are doing that on purpose!” Anders shot him an angry glance and Carver shrugged. Anders peered at the other man for a bit and let out a little chuckle. “All right, I’ll play along. Let’s see what you’ve got,  _ boy _ .”

Carver grabbed Anders’ knees and spread them forcefully. The healer’s entrance was dripping cloudy spend and was slightly twitching. His member was still hard.

“That elf didn’t even finish you?” Carver asked.

“Okay technique and terrible manners, typical.” Anders scooted a bit forward and cradled Carver’s head. “I expect you would behave better, hmm? Don’t make me wait.” and he lightly petted the younger man. 

Carver gritted his teeth as he noticed Anders was again treating him like a child. He roughly pushed the older man down and held his thighs. “Then tell me, What should I do with this filthy hole?” Carver lightly brushed his length to the healer's anticipating hole.

“Put your penis inside me.” Anders said breathlessly and pulled the other man closer down. “And fuck me  _ hard _ .”

Carver complied straight away, putting all his weight on his hands, he pushed Anders’ knees and almost folded the man him in half. He then thrust himself inside to the hilt in one powerful lunge. Anders let out a keen wail. 

The room was soon filled with the sound of moans and flesh slapping. “Giving his patient sloppy seconds, some professional healer you are.” snarled the younger man as he felt loaded come spilling out from the healer with each thrust, and Anders barely formed an answer. “S,sorry for- your- inconvenience, please... visit again sometime soon. I promise you a... better service.”

Looking down at the man whose eyes now unfocused, Carver recalled the sexual ‘tips’ fellow soldiers and mercenaries gave him. ‘A perfect chance to test some of those out.’ he thought, and he put one hand on the abdomen of the man underneath him. Then with a hard thrust, he pressed down. 

Anders’ eyes rolled back into his head. Though his mouth was wide open, he couldn’t even scream. Making a gagged sound, he tried to push away the hand on his stomach. “What…what is… this” but his fumbling hands couldn’t quite reach the firm hand placed on himself. After a few more thrusts, Anders arched his back and his visions went white. 

Feeling a sudden tightness, Carver pulled out to not spill himself inside the mage just yet. Anders hugged himself and bore the nearly painful ecstasy washing over him. 

“You came dry? I thought that was just a myth!” Carver laughed in disbelief and Anders barely gathered his senses. “That… was… something. But let’s not try that again… at least today okay? I don’t want to faint during… whatever now this is.” 

Carver leaned closer. “Tell me, how am I doing compared to that elf?” Carver was determined to fully restore his confidence and Anders looked at the overly eager young man. “Childish but cute. However, remind you I’m not finished yet.” 

“Let’s see what you will be like when I’m  _ finished  _ with you, Magey.” said Carver and he pushed himself inside the mage once again. Anders squeezed tight around the hotness inside and firmly held the arms of the man above him and they started rocking. 

“To complete this…treatment you have to come inside” said Anders as he felt the movement grow faster and jerkier.

“What if I come on your stomach and do it all over again?” Carver gave a sly reply and Anders wrapped his legs around the other man’s waist and locked him in place. 

“Ah-!” With a short cry, Anders felt hot wetness from his inside overflow and he soon followed, reaching a satisfying release. 

“Youth is a wondrous thing indeed.” He let out a satisfied sigh and opened his eyes to look up. Carver’s eyes were shut and brows were knitted, but then his expression went blank and he slumped on to the man beneath. Anders could hear soft snoring right by his ear.

“Oh, Maker’s balls.” Anders tried to push away the bulky warrior above him and he hardly budged.

“So much for manners.” Anders gave up trying to squirm out and he too fell asleep. 


	3. Unhealthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you smell that, that is the smell of a plot. It comes complete with dull jokes and cheesy contrivances, but the plot is in there too.

Anders woke up as he fell out of the bed. A one-man cot really wasn’t enough for two big adults to spend a night on. Normally, it would have been a terrible start of a day for Anders. His legs had a cramp and his arse was now sticky and unbearably sore. But as he drew power from the fade to form a healing beam for himself, all his discontent melted away. He hasn't felt this fully charged with mana for… what felt like ever. From the time he came to Kirkwall and opened his small clinic, his mana has always been depleted. He could barely regain enough though his light sleep but a new day just came heartlessly and he had to wring out every drop of mana for refugees who found him as their last hope. But at least now, it felt like he was fully energized, rejuvenated. 

**Anders, It is unjust to extort vitality from your patient. You didn’t have to extract that much in order to cure them.**

Anders looked back down at the warrior as he heard Justice. Carver was still sleeping like a log on his cot. The two warriors he treated last night were too good of a source and he couldn’t help but suck out every last drop of energy he could manage. He bet Fenris would have passed out by the roadside on the way to his place and that made Anders laugh in his sleeve.  _ Oh, admit it, you swooned over that lyrium and mana, and That’s why you didn’t stop me last night _ . Anders replied and Justice gave a slightly less self-assured response. 

**I concede that you can provide more aid for refugees with the mana you have earned.** Anders snickered.  _ So I guess it means that something like this can happen again?  _ Justice somewhat stuttered.  **Only with their consent, when they need your aid.** And Anders grinned. _ Aww, you are really adorable when you’re like that you know. Well, that’s why I chose to merge with you in the first place and- _ Before Anders went on more, Justice let out a grunt and the spirit made a substantial pause.

**...Anders, you have been acting overly… lively of late. If it is something about Karl-**

_ No, it’s not. _ Anders cut off the spirit as well as the memory he had so earnestly buried somewhere deep inside of himself surfacing. Anders has been piling everything on the buried memory to hide the last image of his former lover’s impassive face and the flaming chantry brand on it. But from just a little nudge, everything he stacked up to block away the memory crumbled down. 

_ Thank you, Justice. For your concern, really, but I am fine.  _

**I know you are not. I am you.**

Anders hurriedly gathered his cloth and went to leave the room for a bath, as if that could dismiss Justice inside his head. 

**Using this kind of contact to distract yourself is unhealthy.**

Anders stopped dead.  _ Then what am I supposed to do! _

He slightly lifted his head as he felt tears welling up in his eyes.

_ My day started great and I do not intend to ruin it. Leave me be. For my sake. _

Justice reluctantly retreated. Anders filled his leaking bathtub with water and heated it with his magic. Seeing his magic so powerful that water boiled a little, he smiled faintly and poured more ice cold water into the bathtub. 

_ Had I known that it would hurt this much, I would never have loved him. _ Anders thought dully. 

**_I will never make the same mistake._ **

* * *

Carver woke up to a coldness touching his cheek. 

“Wake up, sleepyhead. I can’t have you lazing here the whole day.”

Anders was standing next to the cot, holding out a cup of water. Carver reached for the cup and shrank as he felt a splitting headache. 

“What are you doing here, Anders?” 

Anders snorted without an answer and Carver snatched the cup. Cold water soothed his weary dizziness and he came to consciousness of his surroundings. Looking down, his naked lower half came into sight, so he quickly tucked the blanket he was sitting on around himself. 

While Carver was still fluttering, Anders sat on a stool beside the cot and casually munched on a hard bread. “Sorry about last night. I got ahead of myself and drained too much stamina from you.” - a bite - “Bath is on the right. Water might be a little cold though.” -chomp.

Carver could hardly comprehend the dissonance between the Anders from last night and who was sitting in front of him. Carver gawked at Anders, blushing as the images from last night overlapped the sight before his eyes. 

“What. It’s my lunch break.” Anders returned his gaze. Then he gestured at the bread. “Want some?”

“Shove it.” Carver climbed out of the cot clumsily, covering himself and Anders finished the bread and dusted off his hands. 

As Anders opened the door to leave, Carver caught him by his arm. 

“About last night… You said I could visit again?” Carver saved the ‘better service’ part. 

Anders turned and replied flatly. “Extra mana is always appreciated.” And he spotted a doubtful look crossing the younger man’s face. 

“Just make sure you are well rested when you come.” Anders grinned and petted lightly on Carver’s hips. “Go home. Your mother might be worried about you.”

Carver grumbled and stomped off the room. 

On the way home, Carver’s body was shivering from cold but his cheeks were hot. He was already drawing up a list of things he would try out on Anders. Forget the Blooming Rose, this healer does it for free! 

“Maker, Look at the time! Someone must have had a heated night!”

“Sister!”

Carver rolled his eyes. 

* * *

Fenris woke up from a dream-turned into-nightmare. He couldn’t quite make out how he got back to hightown last night. It was a long way from darktown clinic to the mansion where he decided to squat in. Every step he took climbing through the city weighed more and he blacked out right after he passed the front door. 

He immediately rose to his feet and went to check if the door was locked. As he felt a halt turning the door knob, he breathed a sigh of relief. It seems that his subconscious did him a favor. 

Only then did he feel an unusual fatigue and he dragged himself with faltering legs to a settee in the hall. He reclined on it and closed his eyes to try and remember his now rapidly fading dream. 

_Children’s laughter. Hands feeling moist coolness as he touches the earth. A soft hand brushing his ear. It puts flowers in his hair and there is a smiling face._ _Green eyes?_ The image disappeared as he tried to define. 

He jerked his head as he failed to remember. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

_ Warm embrace. There is no discomfort where his lyrium markings are. Markings? Maybe there aren't any markings. A soft kiss placed on his forehead.  _

_ And somewhere dark. A silhouette is approaching and his breath hitched. A reek of blood.  _

“NO!”

Fenris’ eyes snapped open and he found himself in a cold sweat. Everything from the dream vanished except for the reek of blood. 

He looked around the hall. Dead bodies were scattered and he suddenly felt suffocated.

Knock Knock Knock---

He jumped at the sound coming from the door. He carefully picked up his sword and approached the door without making any noise. With one unsteady hand, he unlocked the door and as he flung it open, he brandished his sword.

“Woah!”

“Easy! Easy Broody! It’s us!”

The sword dropped with a clank. 


	4. Sense of Humor

“My- My apologies” Fenris teetered and Marian caught him before he fell. 

“You alright? You’re drenched in sweat.” 

“Shit, did we not clear this place last time? Don’t tell me there's still more shades we left out.”

Varric took a quick peek inside. “You lived here with all these corpses for what, three months now? Let me find someone who can get those out.”

“To what end?” Fenris took a step forward and blocked Varric’s view. 

“Just so that they can litter this place once more? Leave it. Those will show exactly how they will end up when they come for me.”

“And you will have to bear this putrid smell till then.” and Fenris opened his mouth to refute. “Alright, Alright, Have it your way if that’s some original way you came up with to treat yourself.” Varric threw up his hands.

“Umm, gentlemen?” Two men turned their eyes to Marian. “Right. About why we’re here. Now that we’ve got quite a group of workmates, I thought it would be better if we made our get-togethers a regular one, like once-a-week.”

“Workmates? Really, Hawke?”

“Companions. Would that be better?”

“Marginally. So, Broody, have you ever played Wicked Grace?”

Fenris shook his head slowly, not sure what to make out of two rogues bantering in front of him.

“Great, it’s much more fun when you don’t know the rules.” The dwarf made a playful comment about the time when Hawke’s dog won all three of his owners in a game and Marian gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder. 

“Come visit us at the Hanged Man. How about tomorrow evening?”

Fenris nodded this time. It was hard for him to turn down any offer that seemed genuinely good-natured. Or rather they didn’t give enough time for Fenris to think by lavishing a stream of words on him. 

“Alright, we’ll be waiting for you at the Hanged man.”

“See you.”

Fenris heard Varric talking before the door closed. “Now we just have to get Blondie.”

“Ha… Long way down to Darktown then.” With Marian’s reply, the door shut. 

“Blondie…?” Fenris muttered at the closed door. 

\----

With the word, the image and feeling of the healer’s blonde hair came to Fenris’ mind. Gold with a hint of copper, a bit tickling where tied hair sticked out, unevenly chopped ends brushing Fenris’ cheeks when he held Anders from behind.

It shouldn’t have been a memorable event but something about last light was prominent and persistent. Odd thing being, it wasn’t the heated movements and excited contacts that lingered, but the subtle warmth which came after. 

When was the last time he embraced someone like he did the night before, Or simply felt someone’s body temperature on his skin while relaxing.

Fenris tried to recall anything comparable to the time he lay beside Anders, but he could bring nothing to mind. Yet, it felt like he regained something he had lost. It’s a paradox that he regained something he never had. Therefore,

_ The life before.  _

Before he became a weapon. An ornament installed to furbish the pride of those who possess power. 

And only a madman would embrace and cuddle one’s expendables. 

_ Maker surely has a terrible sense of humor. _

Fenris smiled bitterly, One mage took away everything his past held and another held a key to that past. 

Fenris didn’t want to admit that he actually looked forward to the Wicked Grace night, or rather seeing the healer again. But he found himself starting to shift weight from foot to foot in front of the mansion’s front door long before evening. 

_ Don’t arrive too early, Don’t make it too obvious.  _

He honed his already razor-sharp sword and still there was more time. He then scrubbed his armor with sand and oiled every joint of his gauntlet. As he saw that the light coming in through the collapsed ceiling had lost its shade of red, he went to check himself on a broken looking glass and set out for Lowtown. 

The Hawke siblings, Varric and Isabela were already seated at the long table chatting, and cards were scattered between them. 

“Hey, I knew you would come. Want a drink? It’s my treat today.”

With a slight smile, Fenris took the seat next to Varric, still feeling somewhat out of place since he was not used to such hospitality. He exchanged greetings with others, and when it came to Carver, it was a rigid nod. 

Varric arranged the cards on the table in rows and started to explain. “Let me tell you the basics. This is the highest possible hand and…”

Fenris looked at various combinations presented on the table, but all his attention wandered to the doorway. When the door opened, he quickly turned his head to the direction and as he recognized it was Aveline, he couldn’t help but let out a disappointed noise. 

One seat remained empty for quite a long time and then, came the sounds of hurried steps from the corridor. 

“Sorry, an emergency.”

The healer had his scruffy and weary look as always but in Fenris’ eyes, he was almost dashing. Fenris deliberately took his eyes off the man and glared at his cards. 

_ Don’t make it too obvious.  _

“Look who’s here! Isn’t that Carver’s new found Daddy?” Isabela gave a whistle and Marian laughed aloud. 

“It turns out, He was more of a Mommy.”

Carver returned with a smug expression on his face and Marian choked on her drink. “Oh! Didn’t see that coming.” And everyone burst out laughing - Except for Fenris who couldn’t decide how to respond and his clench on the cards tightened. 

Anders gave Carver a clout with his knuckles but he too seemed amused. He naturally took the empty seat next to Carver. “So, you have started without me.”

Isabela leaned toward Anders and raised her eyebrows in a suggestive way. 

“Come to think of it, I suppose now, I don’t have to guess what color Fenris’ underclothes are.” Isabela deepened her voice.

“I can just ask you.”

Fenris was busy finding a suitable comment and before he spoke a word, an exaggerated laugh came from Marian. 

“Aha..ha. Anyone hungry? I know I am. Anders, you must be starving. Want me to get you something?”

Bethany tugged at Isabela’s clothes and shook her head furtively. “Not now.” She mouthed and Isabela made a muted “Oops.”

Soon, the subject changed and the cards were re-shuffled. Nothing about the treatment Anders gave Fenris was brought up but Fenris wasn’t exactly happy about it. 

Knock Knock

Fenris raised his eyes from his cards to the hand in front of him that knocked on the table. Anders gave a concerned look. “You feeling alright? You didn’t pass out on the way to your mansion, did you?” 

Again, looking straight in those golden eyes.

Fenris shook his head. “No, I had arrived with no trouble.”  _ And recalled my past.  _

“That’s a relief. Well, sorry for being careless. Your markings, It does things to me you know? Well, at least it won’t happen again”

_ That… won’t happen again.  _

Fenris slowly nodded and the night went on. 

Fenris told himself that everything ended in the best possible way. The annoying symptom went away and no one was harmed. He was not made fun of and the healer even apologized for his mistakes. 

Everything turned out fine - Until he heard the young warrior upon the end of that night. 

Leaving the Hanged Man, Carver placed his hand around Anders’ waist. 

“When would you have me visit you? There are so many things I would like to seek advice.”


	5. Curious Sort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders/Carver half-failed sex

“So, in short, you want to practice on me.” Anders said after hearing Carver’s long winding talk. 

“If, If you put it that way…” Carver avoided Anders’ eyes.

“I thought you would have figured it out by now that I’m Not a girl.” 

Carver scratched his head looking a little abashed. “I mean I am the one who does the fucking part and you receive me with your-”

“Maker! Stop right there.” 

“Let’s just say that you have a better understanding of women’s anatomy.”

“... I’m So going to drink you dry.”

And that was how the two began their not so much of a ‘relationship’.

Carver helped Anders take off his tunic and sat on his sleeping cot. He placed a hand on Anders’ shoulder, rigidly pushed down and Anders complied by kneeling between his legs.

Anders pulled out Carver’s member from his underclothes and gently palmed it. 

“Communicate what you want _before_ you start, understood?”

“I thought you wanted a drink.”

Anders scowled up at the younger man and gave him a forcible squeeze.

“Aah-! Okay, okay, understood.”

Anders scoffed and spat on his palm. He gave a few firm slow strokes and teased the tip with his thumb. 

“What do you want? Ask me nicely.” 

“S, Suck me.” A little pause. “Please?”

“Good.” Anders tilted his head and drew his hair back over his ear. He lightly placed his lips on Carver’s member and began to suck. 

Carver was overwhelmed by the sensation of slick tongue, tight lips and sight of the normally proud man now servicing him earnestly and all was too much for his under-experienced self to take, whereas Anders was amused by Carver’s honest response. Carver whined when teased and gasped when granted. Anders cupped the man’s balls and bobbed his head. 

Abruptly, his mouth was filled with hot bitter taste and he opened his throat to swallow the thick liquid. He could feel youth’s vigor rushing in as soon as he swallowed.

“You…? Already?”

Anders looked up, still licking his lips and Carver turned almost crimson. 

“Hmm… Have you been saving up for today? Avoided to … on purpose?” Anders filled the gap of his speech with a hinting gesture. 

Carver nodded with both hands covering his face. 

“That doesn't particularly help you last longer, you see. I’ll tell you about that later.” Anders gave Carver’s thigh a cheery pet and climbed onto the cot. 

“Now, prepare me. Let’s hope you recover by then.”

Carver was a curious sort and Anders had to finish the preparation himself since the man seemed to try and root Anders’ innards out. Anders grabbed Carver’s wrist as the man trying to wiggle his fourth finger in. 

Anders began with a sigh. “Whoever sleeps with you later should really thank me.” 

Anders lay on his back and held his own knees. Seeing Anders’ inviting and also submissive posture, Carver once again was fully hardened and he hastefully shoved his own member into the man underneath. 

“AH!”  _ I can’t believe you bloody pushed all the way in at once.  _

Anders was going to protest but the rapid movement made it impossible to voice his thoughts. So Anders tried to breathe and adjust.  _ At least his strength is appealing. _ Anders thought to himself looking up at the genuinely enthusiastic man. However, that appeal didn’t last long.

“...Ouch! That’s it. Stop.” 

Anders exclaimed as he felt a particularly harsh pinch landing on his nipples and Carver stopped immediately. 

“W, What’s wrong?” Carver flustered, at a loss for what to do. His hands hovered over Anders, uncertain where to be placed. 

Anders sat up and he couldn’t help but let his annoyance show. “Are you trying to rip it off? I know you’re a warrior but it’s not some sports for you to boast of your strength.” 

“I… I thought you liked it a bit… rough.” said Carver with a hardly noticeable pout.

“Yes, but last time I was already loose and fully aroused. It almost feels like being beaten by your cock!”

“You're beaten by my…” Anders rolled his eyes as he saw Carver’s member twitch at his remark. 

“That wasn’t a compliment!”

As Carver noticed Anders’ swollen and reddened hole, he hung his head in embarrassment and Anders heard a barely audible “Sorry.” from the young man. 

“Alright, Then let’s try something else.”

  
  


Anders caressed the dispirited man’s cheek and continued. “How about we play a game? The one who climaxes first loses and has to do one thing that the winner wants. What do you say?”

Carver thought for a moment and asked. “If so, what do you want me to do?”

“Hmm…" Anders thought for a moment. "I want you to rim me.” Anders smiled with a hint of shyness.

_ I can do that right now. _ Carver thought.

“And you?” came the question and this time, Carver was the shy one. “I… would like to try out handcuffs… on you.”

“You really are brazen aren't you?” Anders chuckled. “I guess that’s part of your charm though.” 

He pushed the younger down and climbed onto him. 

“Now that it’s a match, try to concentrate this time.”

Carver watched his own arousal inching inside the other man and let out an uneven breath. Anders took his time and leisurely ground himself on the body he was seated on and looked for the right angle. 

Anders’ brow knitted briefly and he started to move up and down. Carver noticed Anders’ insides jolted every time he hit a certain spot and he continued to study the man’s expressions carefully. Carver began to move tentatively so that he could meet Anders’ rhythm and Anders affirmed his attempts by letting out steamy moans. 

“Yes, right there.” he bent down and touched Carvers hands which were laid flat since their owner was unsure what to do with them. 

“Here, touch me.” Anders’ hands led Carver’s to his chest and Carver placed only a timid pinch which was completely out of his character and Anders chuckled. “It’s okay. I want you to give me more.”

Carver licked his lips and gave the perky nipples tugs and rubs, every motion more exploratory rather than erotic. He could feel Anders’ excitement grow more tangible and that itself made the whole act more vivid and pleasant, as if he was irrigated with his partner’s sensation. 

As their movements become faster and bolder, Anders heaved himself and sat arching his back to deepen the connection. “I, I’m close.” 

Carver slowed down and moved his hand to Anders’ member. Giving it steady strokes, he nudged himself firmly into Anders and soon he heard a fervent cry and felt hot spend spurts out, smearing his fingers. 

Anders’ dazed eyes met Carver’s which were reddened from stimulation. This time Carver fully savored his partner’s ecstasy and the feeling was… sensational. 

Anders whispered. “Come for me.”

Carver now knew what it is like to ‘see stars behind his eyes’.

  
  


“So, handcuffs?”

“With you, definitely.”


	6. Man of Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because awkward courting is a tradition in Thedas.

Fenris’ inner conflict was driving him mad. Every time he went on a mission with Carver and that wicked mage, it felt as if an insufferable irritation was crawling under his skin. But when he refused to accompany them, he fretted the whole day in his needlessly spacious mansion.

“A quick work at the Bone Pit?” Hawke offered. 

_Say no. Just say no._

“Yes.”

  
  


Marian was the type that couldn’t stand silence. So the day’s main challenge wasn’t clearing out the mine, but chatting up the broody elf. 

But that seemed particularly hard today because everytime she brought up something and if either Carver or Anders tried to start a conversation from there, Fenris intercepted and ended it with a short answer. 

Marian wasn’t precisely known for her moderation so the group remained in silence but now added with an uneasy aura surrounding them. 

Ironically, due to a mild rage enhancing Marian and Fenris’ ferocity, they placed more power on their weapons and the job went unexpectedly smoothly. Marian led the way back to Kirkwall with a light heart and Fenris followed. The other two who went after started chatting, and all of Fenris’ perception went to those voices coming from behind his back.

“How about breath control? I heard that can be quite pleasurable.” 

Fenris flinched at the word in spite of himself. The image of a broad rough hand overlapping pale neck caught his unprepared mind off guard.

_Refuse, mage. Don’t let that brat treat you in that way._ Fenris wished that he could answer for the mage.

Came the sound of a light laugh. “Ooh, you want to choke me without even buying me dinner? That’s rude even by your standards.”

“You and me? Having dinner like… a date? That’s disgu- I mean that’s a disturbing thought.”

Fenris had the sudden urge to punch the young man in the face. 

_Can’t you see that he is of no worth!_ He thought indignantly, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“Exactly.” Anders replied. “Hmm… Let’s hold off your suggestion for now, till you have some idea of what you’re doing.”

Fenris tried to make out what that implies. 

_So the relationship between them. It’s not a serious one yet._

Marian gave side-glances at the elf whose footsteps suddenly turned cheerful for no reason.

  
  


That night, Fenris tossed and turned restlessly on his bed. The thought that Anders might be with Carver right this second bugged his mind yet he couldn’t shut out the obscene images his head was making on its own. He knew it was all against his better judgement but his attempts at sleeping resulted in imaginations about the mage’s coquettish gestures or provocative lines. Yet the part that frustrated him the most weren’t the thoughts themselves, but the fact that he couldn’t complete them. 

He didn’t know what was hidden underneath the mage’s ill-fitting clothes or what the man’s expressions would be like when he peaks. On second thought, he didn’t even know what the man’s affectionate voice would sound like, since rarely was the time that their conversation ended civilly. However, there might be a chance for him to change that, or at least some of that.

Various thoughts came and went. The moonlight slanted. 

  
  


Fortunately, Fenris was a man of action. He was quick at forming a plan, good at controlling his emotions, and he made every move count. The unfortunate part was that those tactics hardly mattered on this occasion. 

The next day on the way to collect their payment, Fenris’ head was overloaded with simulated attempts of him ‘befriending’ the mage. 

_Discuss things of his interest. Maybe ask about his demon. No, spirit. Show that I am genuinely intrigued by the concept of a benevolent spirit. Give him a favorable impression._

“Mage.”

“What.” Anders faced him. One eye contact and everything he planned went blank.

“So, you are an abomination?”

  
  


The first conversation ended with Bethany dispelling the cracking lightnings forming on Anders’ palm.

Befriending or ‘trying’ to befriend someone was nothing like swordwork. In combat, people are predictable. When taunted, they advance, counter when attacked and flee when overwhelmed. But the man in question was everything but predictable. 

_Maybe choose more general topics, food, weather. What harm could those bring?_

Yet he somehow managed to fail even that. Everything he threw at the mage seemed to bounce off. When it comes to food, he failed to stop himself from stating that every fruit bore in the Imperium was raised on the blood and tears of slaves. When it comes to whether, Anders argued about how mages were deprived of their right to health, prohibited from any outdoor activity and could only learn raindrops and snowflakes in letters. 

When his last question about Anders’ time with the Wardens was returned with a complaint about the fact that any good that magic can do was still denied despite the fact that a mage defeated the Blight, Fenris was on the verge of crying.

“Anders, _please_.”

Fenris said under his breath. A month of endeavors, now something better has not been made. 

\---

_There is definitely something up with that elf._ Anders thought. 

Fenris used to hide fatal wounds just so that he could avoid being treated with magic. However, recently he visited the clinic for slightest cuts and sometimes more vague symptoms such as sore muscles and a ‘headache’. Of course, there were still a lot of don’t touch here and no magic there, but he was being way more talkative than the time Anders first met him. 

And all those purposeless conversations he insists to carry on! Anders had been looking for a trap or sarcasm but he found nothing. 

He recalled the time he almost zapped the man. He was certain that Fenris saw the sparks appearing on his hand, but the elf didn’t reach for his sword, and that troubled Anders the most. 

_Next time, I could try to be good to him… for once._

Anders thought to himself, idly doodling on his half-finished manifesto. 

  
  


It didn’t take long for that ‘next time’ to come. 

One afternoon, the elf came with a cut on his forehead near the temple. Blood was slightly tinting his snowy white hair and Anders ushered him inside. 

“Another job with Hawke?”

A nod.

“Not in much of a mood to talk today, I see.” Anders returned with a wet towel. He knelt beside the elf who was now sitting on the cot and he carefully wiped the blood away. He saw that the elf was creasing then again flattening the sheet under his hands, seeming ever restless.

“Don’t have to be nervous, I’ll be quick.” 

“There… is no need to hurry.” said Fenris and Anders placed a small and a bit worn pillow on his hand. 

“That helps me whenever I feel tense.” 

Fenris’ hand met a fleecy texture and he traced the embroidered designs with his fingers. A light blue haze appeared before his eyes and he could feel a prickling sensation on his temple. Every painful encounter with magic conditioned him to fear for it, yet this time any discomfort was shielded by a soft warm feeling on his palms. 

“There. All done.”

Anders brushed Fenris’ hair to the side and checked on the now healed wound once more. He then let out a satisfied hum.

“Much better than sewing it up. Can’t leave scars on that pretty face.”

Fenris stood abruptly and grabbed the small bag he left beside the cot and shoved it to the healer.

“It comes to me that I have never returned your favor. I… wish you to have it.” And the elf stormed out.

Anders opened the bag and looked inside. Health poultices, bandages and various salves were packed inside. 

Anders arranged the supplies onto the shelves and at the bottom of the bag, he found a white scarf. 

**I can never understand you mortals.**

_Funny, me neither._


	7. Blackberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a different turn.

Early in the morning, still dressing himself Anders’ hand automatically reached for his old scarf and he recalled that Fenris had gifted a new one on the previous day. After a moment of hesitation, he picked the old one up and smoothed the rumpled and tattered fabric. 

**_Surana…_ **

Always so serious. Stands upright with her hands folded behind her back, wears a confident and impenetrable look. The plans she mapped out, no matter how impossible and absurd those were, when uttered with that fearless voice, became convincing. 

_That_ Warden-Commander stood on tiptoes and wrapped the scarf around Anders’ neck. A few steps back and a gratified nod. “It suits you.” 

The scarf had accompanied him since, kept out winds and diseases, but it was now stained with unwashable evidence of his occupation and habitation. 

He carefully folded the scarf and pulled out a box from under his bed. He opened the box and a bunch of letters and Fox’s pendant appeared. He placed the scarf atop of other items. 

Then he heard a voice from outside asking for a healer punctuated by rasping coughs. He quickly clapped the box and placed it back under his bed. Walking out of the room, he wrapped the brand new scarf around his neck and pulled the fabric up and masked himself. 

\---

“You must be the one the Keeper told me about. Aneth ara.”

And Carver was in _love_. 

Also, that was why he was in the Chantry library for the first time since he arrived in Kirkwall. On the quest to deliver the amulet received from the witch, he hardly understood any of the magical gibberish that went between Merrill and his sister. He did try to read through some of the pages his sister collected from the Dalish but there were too many foreign words and nearly every codex was rhymed, which made it extra hard for him to understand. 

“...and have not heard us since before the fall of Arlathan… Who the fuck is Arlathan?”

After an hour of struggle, he reluctantly headed for the library. 

“In Pursuit of Knowledge, ugh!” 

He wrinkled his nose at the dull name of the book which the librarian kindly recommended for him. He sat down and opened the ridiculously thick book and grudgingly scanned the contents within. 

“Oh, it was a where not a who…”

It turns out that the book wasn’t as bad as what its old and bulky appearance made out to be. He lazily went through the tales with his chin cupped in his hand and occasionally made small notes. 

“The vallaslin you’re wearing, does it have a meaning?”

Merrill beamed at Carver and her eyes were wide open with excitement.

“Oh! you are the first human who called it by its name! Not that I met a lot of humans yet, oh, and I’m not offended if you don’t know some of the terms we use but,” Merrill stopped to straighten up her thoughts.

“I’m just glad that you asked about it.” 

The girl explained about her tattoo with a bright smile and Carver thought that every minute he spent at the library was worth it. 

Visiting the library soon became a regular thing for Carver and one day, upon choosing another book, a section sign caught his eyes. 

_Romance_

Carver looked around him as if he was doing something mischievous and sneaked into the romance section. He skimmed over the titles and one stood out. 

_Thedas’ Best Chat-up Lines_

Carver sneakily picked up the book and quickly went through its contents. The author’s sly grin and too-well-trimmed mustaches made him cringe but he continued through the pages. 

_My heart is a fool, it skips a beat every time I look at you._

“That could work.”

Or, it could not. 

“Merrill, My heart is a fool, it-”

“Can one’s heart be stupid? It isn’t that I don’t believe you… I’m sure you can manage even something like that!”

Anders was trying his best to keep a straight face but the corner of his mouth was already twitching.

“You want me to help you, then.” His reply was interrupted here and there by bits of laughter he failed to hold back. 

“Yes, magey. And the thing between you and me, it’s over.” Carver emphasized with a stern gesture.

“But now that I don’t get mana from you, what’s in it for me?”

Carver placed a bottle of lyrium potion on Anders’ desk with a loud clunk. 

“Alright. Then let me hear them out and decide if each is a go or a no-go.”

Carver mused for a while and made a “Ah!” sound as he came up with something. 

He lifted his index finger as if he was going to show something great. He then grabbed Anders’ half-filled cup and splashed everything inside on the healer. 

“Maker’s hairy ass! What the f-”

“Shut up, I’m just watering the flower.”

Anders froze on the spot. He then cracked up, almost howling with laughter. 

“Aah- That was a good one. Tell me, did you come up with that yourself?” Anders was still giggling, wiping out water from his face. 

“N-No. Not really. I read it in a book.”

“Oh, good then. Otherwise this should be a brain inspection not some love counselling. “

Carver frowned and made a mental image of stabbing the author in his cheeky face. “I knew it.”

Anders touched his chin as he started to think. “Hmm... have you tried giving her a present?”

“I did! I even helped her move into the alienage. Hawke just had to take all the credit for herself.” Carver crossed his arms with a pout. 

**Flowers, tell him to give the girl flowers.**

_Justice?_ Anders was surprised by the spirit’s unexpected appearance. _That’s too basic, surely he knows that much!_

**Just tell him. That was Kristoff’s wife’s favorite.**

“Um… have you tried something more obvious? Like flowers or sweets?” Anders asked as Justice started nagging.

“Flowers? Why, the Dalish can’t move two steps without stepping on one.”

Anders rubbed his forehead with his fingers and answered. “That’s what gifts are like. They don’t have to always be practical. And besides, now that she is in the city, she might miss something from the wild. 

“Miss something…” Carver contemplated on the word for a moment and muttered. “Blackberries…!”

“Blackberries?”

“Yes! She said she misses those from Ferelden. You meet a lot of Fereldens right? Help me find those and next time I’ll bring more potions!”

'Blackberry' was added on Anders' clinic’s donation notice board.


	8. Preserved in Honey

“You said you got them?”

Three potion bottles were dangling between Carver’s fingers.

“Yes. The only thing is, you have to grow them yourself.”

Seeing his expensive lyriums returned as a small pack of blackberry seeds, Carver felt like being ripped off yet he had no choice but to put down the three hard earned bottles and pick up the ridiculously light envelope. There were a few dozens of seeds inside.

“At least I have enough attempts available.” with a long sigh, he resealed the envelope. 

Leaving the clinic, Carver was already thinking of an excuse to give his always meddling sister for him suddenly taking an interest in gardening. “Hawke, always the bane of my life.”

\---

On the way to the clinic Fenris saw Carver leaving Darktown holding a small envelope close to his heart. 

_ Could it be… _

Fenris refused to call the rising uneasiness jealousy but his footsteps were hurried unwittingly.

“Mage.”

“Oh, Fenris! What brings you here this early in the morning?”

“Hawke…” Fenris stopped for a moment as he saw Anders wearing the white scarf. He checked if himself was deluded to think the man’s voice was particularly warm today. “Hawke got a new contract with the smugglers. She went to get Varric and I came to bring you.”

“Then I’m afraid you’d have to bring someone else.” Anders said in an apologetic tone. “There was a fire in Darktown. Some got severely burned and a lot of residents inhaled fumes from it.” Fenris looked around the clinic and saw that most of the cots were filled with patients.

“I’ve taken care of the most urgent cases, but that doesn’t mean I can leave these people here for the whole day.”

“...I’ll let her know.” Fenris replied but he found his gait cannot be lifted seeing the healer hastily draining a potion bottle. “If there is anything I can do-”

“You already did.” Anders smiled, tossing the empty bottle into the almost full bin brimmed with various empty containers. “Had it not been for the supplies you brought, half of these people might not have made it. I. No, we. Owe you a debt of gratitude.”

At the cordial words of thanks, Fenris started to talk before he knew what he was going to say. “I recently arranged the mansion and sorted out the goods which seemed still serviceable. And some might be of use to you. You are free to come and take anything you need.” After Fenris finished the sentence, he felt a slight guilt surge as he realized that he just tried to lure Anders into visiting his place with supplies essential to the clinic. “If you have time, of course.” He added, hoping Anders would not find out his true intentions. 

“That’s... very generous of you!” Contrary to his worries, Anders seemed genuinely grateful with his offer. “Can I visit you…” Anders ran his eyes through the items left on the shelves and made a rough estimate of the span of time the remaining supplies would last. “Next Monday?”

“I’ll see you then.” Fenris left the clinic with a fluttering heart. 

\---

At the end of an exceptionally hard day, Anders went to check on the donation chest. He carefully picked up the fragile herbs, cut away the withered parts and hung some to dry and put the others in different pots to brew various potions. He then gathered the scattered coins and re-coiled the bandages that have been placed carelessly. 

“Hmm?”

There was a sealed jar with a small card clipped to the thread binding the fabric cover. “I didn’t mean _this_ by ‘blackberries’…” He mumbled reading the card, and erased the ‘blackberry’ on the blackboard. Although it was heartwarming that someone gave a jar of jam to him as a token of appreciation for saving their family’s life, food rich in sugar was quite a pricey item for any Darktown refugee to donate and Anders couldn’t keep it for himself. On the other hand, thinking of distributing the jam one spoonful to each visitor also seemed to be a laughable idea. Then one person came to his mind. 

\---

Fenris tugged the most visible bodies into an empty closet and shut it by putting all his weight onto its door. He then tried to wipe away the bloodstain seeped into the tiles which refused to come off. After a few more fruitless scrubs, he gave up on cleaning the hall and went to check the commodities he gathered from the mansion. In the relatively cleanest guest room, sheets and blankets were neatly folded, pairs of scissors and scalpels were sharp as he scoured all the rust off. Then he added first-aid kits and soaps he found from the servant’s room to the pile. Yet the fact that all the goods were meant for the healer’s patients but not for the healer himself weighed upon his mind. He pulled out a ring he got on one of the missions he went with Hawke and placed it beside the kits. But he soon picked it up again. 

A ring. Useful with multiple enhancements it provides but could also symbolize other things he wasn’t ready to name. He went around the room considering the right place for the ring and eventually put down the ring on the center of a desk. Not hard to notice but completely up for Anders to decide if he would take it. 

He then dusted off the guest room’s bed, weighing the possibility of whether Anders would stay the night. 

  
  


When he heard a knock on the door, it was already getting on for midnight. 

“You’re late.” 

“Greetings to you too.” Anders didn’t seem to mind the elf’s brusque tone and Fenris secretly thanked the Maker for that. Anders followed him to the guest room and his eyes were widened at the nicely packed supplies. “I don’t know what to say except for... Thank you.”

Fenris didn’t expect the man would give such a reaction. He looked almost … touched. By second-hand things from a dilapidated mansion. Fenris thought that the man was uncanny since the more he offered to him, the less it seemed to be enough. 

“It’s late, so it would be better for you to say overnight here.” Fenris studied the look on Anders’ face. “I shall accompany you back to the clinic tomorrow. Those would be too heavy for you to carry alone.”  _ I shall accompany you, he says.  _ Fenris inwardly sneered at himself for the word choices.

**I don’t know much about you mortals but his behavior suggests that -**

_ Don’t say it Justice.  _

Anders cut off the confused spirit yet he himself was bewildered at the elf’s unexpected kindness. “I... would like that…” Anders replied after spacing out a bit and Justice clucked. 

The two men fell silent and Fenris cleared his throat to break the awkwardness before it got unbearable. “What is it that you’re holding in your hand?”

“Oh, right.” Anders took the jam jar out of his bag and handed it to the elf. “Blackberries preserved in honey. You asked me what do we Fereldans eat and this is something on the better side of our national cuisine. Trust me, you really don’t want to try any kind of Fereldan stew.”

Fenris gazed at the man who was amiably chatting in front of him, warm candlelights emphasizing the emotions showing on his honey-brown eyes. 

He couldn’t hold it in any more. 

“Mage. I need your help.”

  
  


**_Ah-_ **

Anders stopped his meaningless stream of words as well as the smile he wore.

**_So that explains his sudden change of attitude._ **


	9. One-word

Fenris’ mind started to race as the smile gradually faded from the healer’s face. Seeing what little he had just about to slip through his grasp, his speech came out urgent and discursive. He began to talk about the physical contact with Anders and when the context led to more sentimental parts, he belatedly edited those out. Then the topic jumped to the dream he had but since the majority of his recalled memory had been lost again, the description went vague. 

After the explanation that even Fenris himself thought was barely comprehensible ended, he waited to be mocked or even detested. 

_ Yes, I regained my memory after a sex and I might have developed feelings arbitrarily. Now I’m asking for more.  _

Fenris hoped that his fuzzy delivery could obscure the message within.

“Um, Congrats I guess? You regained your memory? That’s a good thing!”

Fenris felt a brief petting on his arm and lifted his gaze back to Anders. As expected, this man was everything but expectable. 

“Except for that you’ve lost it again.” Anders gave a pitying smile. 

Fenris couldn’t process the man’s oddly merry demeanor. It was like the man was using his carefully polished liveliness to maintain a facade. But of what?

“And you need my help to regain it.”

Fenris nodded promptly. 

“Hmm…” Anders pondered for a moment. “…Are you sure that you really want to retrieve all your memory?” 

“What do you mean?” _Is this a rejection?_ Fenris thought. “Is there any reason that I wouldn’t?” 

“The memory you’ve lost. Some might have been deliberately hidden by your mind. For your own good. You described this ritual which caused amnesia to be extremely painful. Bringing the memory back… might intensify some of the traumatic experiences you had.”

_ Amnesia? _

Fenris felt a part of himself broke hearing his life-long agony reduced to a one-word diagnosis. 

“I… ought to reclaim what is rightfully mine.” 

Anders still seemed unsure and he paced around a little, contemplating. 

“I suggest we take a milder method. Let’s try to bring back the memories through conversation for the meantime and see how it proceeds. Would that be okay with you?”

No matter how much he hated the fact, Fenris knew he could only utter one answer. 

“Yes.”

“Great. Then come visit my clinic whenever you are available.”

Anders gave more instructions but not much could reach Fenris now that he was lost in his tangled feelings. 

“Night.”

“Oh, and Fenris.” Anders’ word stopped Fenris as he was just about to cross the doorsill.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful but I said that I would heal free of cost, and that applies to you too.”

Fenris closed the door without an answer. 

\---

Anders woke up earlier than usual to Justice’s scolding. 

_ I know it’s a long way back to Darktown and I’ll open the clinic on time so you can stop.  _

Anders lifted the packed supplies and held them with both hands. 

**Not a delicate mage flower I see.**

_ Are you trying to cheer me up? _

Anders could feel Justice’s existence grow tangible around his hand. Anders shook off whatever wistfulness dallied in his mind as the spirit ‘held’ his hand and comforted him in its own way. Leaving the room, he noticed a ring, showing off its presence on the center of the desk. 

_ Don’t make me get the wrong idea.  _

Anders smiled bitterly and left the place. 

_ I’ll see you soon, Fenris.  _

\---

_ Of course.  _

Fenris sat in front of the desk and picked up the ring left in the empty room. Everytime he thought he got one step closer, Anders would back two steps away. At least he secured a new opportunity and 'new opportunity' was a concept he was slowly getting used to since the time he achieved his semi-freedom. Making the most of it however was yet an uncharted territory.

\---

“I have no idea how that woman managed to accumulate fifty golds.”

Aveline shook her head at the sight of the bustling crowd going on a binge at the Hanged Man. In order to celebrate her finally becoming the business partner in The Deep Roads Expedition, Marian invited all her companions and the excavation team to treat them with generosity she could barely afford and for that she borrowed money from Dougal. 

“Friendship is the best investment she says.” Bethany sighed and shrugged. “If she ever does return with gold and jewels she claims to be hidden underground, I’ll make sure that I am the one who allocates them in the right place.”

Aveline was amused seeing there was a bit of mercenary showing in Bethany. “So Hawke isn’t taking you with her to the Deep Roads?”

“No. She is considerate only at times like these.” Bethany snickered. “Although Carver doesn’t seem to be happy about that.” 

Bethany pointed at the young warrior who gave up arguing with his sister and now moved onto badgering Varric. 

“He’s better-” 

“Hi, Sebastian!”

Just as Aveline started to talk, Bethany waved at their newly recruited archer and jogged up to him with footsteps like a fluttering butterfly. 

“Ow, be a big girl. I’m sure you’ll get your own man who discovers your  _ inner  _ beauty… some day.”

“Shut up whore.”

Isabela rested her elbow on Aveline’s shoulder and Aveline flung it off with one annoyed shrug but Isabela took no heed. She casually grabbed a pint from a tray carried by a server and passed it to the irritated woman. 

“Look at those two, It’s like they’re being tortured.” Isabela giggled. 

Introduced as a infamous Grey Warden, Anders was overwhelmed by the number of ludicrous questions pouring out from the excavation workers. Meanwhile Fenris was busy hissing at anyone who was trying to touch his markings. 

“Taking those two to the Deep Roads, is Hawke out of her mind? She might as well take a time bomb with her.”

“Time bomb? But that  _ is  _ something she’s supposed to take to the expedition is it not?”

“Aww, Kitten.” Isabela looked fondly at the innocent mage. “Though I’m sure something is about to  _ explode  _ between them… very soon.”

“Can people- I missed something dirty, didn’t I?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” said Isabela, smirking at the two men shooting each other glances through the busy crowd. 


	10. Anticlimactic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter because my term paper is murdering me.

“And then?” Fenris was leaning forward before he knew, intrigued by Anders’ story.

“Then I jumped off the dock and swam for the shore.” Anders stressed each verb in his talk by acting them out and Fenris finally broke into a small laugh.

“You didn’t!”

“I did! The templars couldn’t follow, unless they wanted to drown themselves steel clad in their armor.”

“That… is actually quite a decent plan.” Fenris pictured a droll image of heavily armored templars yelling and stamping with vexation by the pier. He was surprised that he was inclined to cheer for this young mage with an indefatigable spirit in this story. 

“Did that escape last long?” Fenris prodded.

“No, unfortunately. I think it lasted for a week or so, and I had to suffer the rash whatever was in the lake gave me for a month after that. That was my fifth… wait no, fourth escape attempt.”

“Fifth?”

“Haven’t I told you? It took me a total of seven attempts to finally succeed. Kind of, thanks to the Hero of Ferelden.”

Only then did Fenris try to hide his total absorption and waited for the next part of the story about this young mage being recaptured and punished to come. He braced for Anders’ recounting adopting a hateful tone, but the story ended there. 

“So, there you have it. I told you something about myself, and now it’s your turn.”

“I…” Fenris searched through his memory for an episode to match the atmosphere of Anders’ story. Obviously, there was no bliss and glee in a life of servitude but he could at least manage a neutral one. “I… speak Qunlat.”

“Qunlat? You mean the Qunari language?” 

Fenris’ mind eased seeing Anders instantly showing an interest. “Would you believe that the magisters once tried to train me to be an anti-Qunari spy?”

“You’re having me on!” Anders’ eyes took on the shape of crescent-moon as he smiled. 

“I might’ve made it sound a little too dramatic but that did happen.” He continued to meet Anders’ attentiveness. “They taught me the basics of Qunlat and expected me to acquire the rest living among the rebels. After years of vicissitude across Minrathous and Seheron, I eventually gained all the skills to blend into the Qunari.”

Anders lowered his voice and scooted closer making a cracking sound from the chair. “Did you go undercover? Take out the major figures?”

Fenris illuminated his markings. “Do I look like the type that goes well with ‘undercover’?”

Anders chuckled. “No.”

“Then you know the answer. They never got the chance to even send me on a mission.”

“That was... Anticlimactic!” Anders laughed. 

“What can I say? Magisters never fail to disappoint.”

“Ha- No doubt about that.” 

Approved by Anders, Fenris’ words flowed more readily. “They would rather miss the right time than make me literate. By the time I had acquired the language, I'd already become too conspicuous among the rebels to enact the nonsensical scenario they devised. Of me being a fugitive, seeking solace and safety in the Qun.”

It took a moment for Anders to understand what he meant. “You don’t mean…” 

“Slaves are not permitted to read.” Fenris couldn’t control his own voice from growing hostile. 

_ Kaffas. Not again.  _ Fenris then realized that he might’ve just ruined the conversation. He waited for the other man’s response. 

“...You mastered three languages? Tevene, the common tongue and Qunlat- Without the help of letters?” 

“I-” Fenris was taken aback by the unexpected compliment.

“That’s… incredible!” Anders grasped Fenris’ hands with his own. “I would say... you have a gift.”

“A gift?” Fenris was perplexed.

“What else would you call it?” Anders then stood, letting go of his hands. “Don’t worry, you will learn in no time.” He went to his old cabinet and returned with empty parchment and an inked quill pen.

“Can you read, or recognize any of the alphabets? Signs, price tags, anything?”

“I can discern numbers and figures on signs.”

Anders offered Fenris a seat in front of his writing desk. Fenris took the pen and Anders corrected his pen grip and gave an assuring nod. 

Fenris tried to recall the specific figure he had seen on the stop signs. He abashedly started to write - draw the shape he knew. 

Anders stood next to him, sounding out each letter as they were formed on the parchment one by one. “S...t...o..p! Stop!” Anders gave a hearty slap on Fenris’ back. “See? That is already a promising start.”

Anders pointed at each crooked letter. “Each represents one sound. Ss- t- a-- and p-.” 

For a moment, Fenris was lost for words. 

“Just… like that? That’s how it works?” 

Fenris felt his heart swell with the feeling he never knew.

“Yes, there are some anomalies but basically, yes. I’ll help you learn properly after we return from the Deep Roads."

Anders was going to put the pen away but Fenris didn’t move from the desk and his brows were slightly drooped, showing a little reluctance for leaving. 

"Um... But before that, since we still have time, would you want me to spell something out for you?” 

“My name.” Fenris faced up, meeting Anders' eyes and made a immediate reply with a slightly quivering voice. “I would like you to spell out my name.”

_Those eyes…_ Anders felt an ache piercing through his heart as he perceived unexpected earnestness and remorse veiled in emerald green. Thus far he thought he knew much of the pain the man went through but now he could sense the depth he never fathomed. 

Anders held the pen and wrote Fenris’ name neatly in block characters, pronouncing it in segments. 

Fenris stared dazedly at the shapes the black ink formed on the old parchment. A series of letters smaller than a knuckle of his finger yet he'd never had the privilege of knowing... until now. 

“And, in case you’re wondering” the pen started to form a different word next to his name. 

“A-n-ders. This, is my name.”


	11. Classic

With a sigh, Anders put a period and closed his journal full of consultation records. Week 4, still no progress. 

Fenris had been surprisingly compliant in his care and Anders also honestly wanted to pat himself on the back for successfully resisting the temptation of bringing his just and great cause into their sessions. Justice had been sulky at first for Anders censoring most of his additional opinions out but after weeks of peculiarly harmonious sessions, the spirit slowly dropped his guard and started to look into the story and the messages delivered by the former slave.

**He could have had a better life.**

The spirit cut in on Anders’ imagination of Fenris not wielding a sword but a facile pen, sitting inside an office with his spectacles on. Though the image was more farcical than serious, it made Anders think of Fenris’ lost possibilities. If it weren’t for his heritage, he would most likely have a completely different personality, have developed different faculties and lived a certainly ‘happier’ life. 

The spirit too began to seek solutions along with his host, however, the situation was none the better for the effort made by all three of them. 

There were two big blanks in Fenris’ timeline. The former one was obviously placed before the ritual and the other somewhere around the time he spent in Seheron. The latter of which was noteworthy since unlike the formal one that was left empty because of its constituents being actually lost, the latter one seemed to have been carefully circumvented by Fenris despite the fact that it depicts the only time he managed to rid himself of his master’s grasp.The period of the gap was quite substantial and it is assumed to be important since an escape is such a rare and significant occurrence for anyone held in slavery, yet anything about the time was mostly left unsaid. The hidden part could be the core of the problem and for that it should be revealed was Anders’ conclusion, even if the process of doing so might be painful for his counselee.

_ What would you have done, Karl?  _ Anders thought of the senior apprentice he met in the circle, from the first word of greetings came from him to maybe the thirtieth word went all unheard buried in Anders’ own sound of crying. But the boy was an oddity. He would never give up. Whenever he crossed Anders’ path, he would ask something about this still agitated newcomer regardless of being answered or not. Sometimes he brought sweets he pilfered from the kitchen and other times he coaxed Anders to spend time with other apprentices even if Anders chose to remain silent. 

It took years and four escapes for Anders to finally realize the worth of Karl’s effort, open his mind, accept, and forget. 

_ Grant me your wisdom and patience that I may treat with the kindness you once did me… Karl. _

  
  


\---

  
  


_Intoxicating your kiss_ _Intoxicating your lips_

_Nobody does it like this_ _I find it hard to resist_

_ Oh oh, feeling out of control, beautifully souled _

_ What's coming over me? _

_ It's a total eclipse of rationality _

Fenris was leaning on the bar counter absorbed in the melody sung to the slightly out of tune lute with a raspy voice. Music was always played in the background at the Hanged Man but he was never conscious of it before, until he found a certain someone in the lyrics… or more like everywhere. From the shameless secular songs sung by the dock workers to obnoxiously pretentious operas played in Hightown, every song narrated about him and the mage. It was sheer madness. 

Fenris tried to compose himself but as the song progressed to the second verse, his thoughts again went astray. 

_ What would he refer to his lover as? Honey? Babe? ...No, he would go with something more… classic. like… _

_ Love. _

Fenris ducked his head in embarrassment but the thought continued. 

_ And I… might call him... _

Various terms swam around and one word flashed upon his mind. 

_...Amatus _ . 

He cleared his throat to hide the smile creeping across his face from no one but himself. He wondered if this was why people would occasionally smile like an idiot in the midst of tedious works or make puppy eyes and clutch their hearts.  _ So being a freeman is to be hopelessly blind. _ He formulated a definition with unfairly harsh words. 

“Fenris? Fenris!”

He flinched as a hand waved in front of his eyes. “Huh, did I startle you? Daydreaming about a sweet revenge or something?” The last person he wanted to meet at the end of his train of thoughts was there. “...Carver.”

Carver eyed where Fenris’ gaze was directed. “The bard? I never thought you to be the ‘human-fancying’ type.” Fenris glowered at him but the brash youth didn’t stop. “But wouldn’t it be kind of awkward if the girl was taller than- Ah! ah--” 

Carver couldn’t finish his sentence as a hand harshly yanked his ear. “Be. Polite.” Marian sent Fenris an apologizing nod and dragged her brother toward Varric’s room. 

Fenris sighed and followed the two boisterous Hawkes.

\---

“I said we Find. This. Woman!” Marian struck her fist on the table as each word was uttered. “And I’d have to repeat myself. The guards disagree.” Marian let out a groan of frustration at Aveline’s instant rejection. “If anything happens to this ‘Ninette’, I’ll find you guilty of serious dereliction of duty.” Marian slightly raised from her chair and Varric tried his best to put the rogue back in her seat before she broke something. 

“Your big words won’t change my stance. The guards will help no one ‘drag their wife home’.” Marian goggled hearing Aveline’s comment. “You can’t possibly think that- Fine!” She turned her head to her unsuspecting brother. “You! With me to the Blooming Rose tomorrow.” 

Carver opened his mouth to protest but eventually chose to wisely swallow it down at the sight of his sister’s anger.

The topic soon changed as Varric pulled out a bunch of documents and began to explain how Marian’s investment was used. 

“Anders.”

Anders cocked his brow as Carver leaned towards him and whispered. “I’ve got a problem.”

“How big?”

“Big!”

Anders snorted at the Carver’s dramatic response. “Alright, what is it?”

“I think Marian has a crush on Merrill.” Carver whisper-shouted. 

“What?” Anders exclaimed and Carver pulled Anders to lean lower. “Shh!!” He quickly put a finger in front of his lips to make Anders keep his voice down and continued. “I’ll be in the opposite room, follow me after a while.”

Carver stood, then left and Anders couldn’t help but be amused at the youngster’s clumsy attempt at keeping the secret aid from Anders hidden. Anders didn’t mind to be occasionally reminded that the warrior was still a youngster who just passed his puberty. Seeing him fussing around for love became the major one among the few-almost nonexistent other enjoyments he had.

Anders folded his cards after two rounds and stood. “Nature’s call.”

Carver’s whining started right after Anders entered the room. “‘How about a kiss’, yecch!” He mimicked Marian and made a fake motion of throwing up.

Anders snorted. “She does that to practically everyone. Remember how much of a disaster she was after we got out of the chantry that night? And I barely even knew her then. Besides, surely you know that Hawke is now head over heels with Isabela, right? I thought they made it quite obvious.” Image of Marian nuzzling into Isabela’s bosom flashed into his brain and Anders grimaced. “Maybe a bit too obvious.”

“That’s the problem!” Showing frustration, Carver continued. “If Marian ever gets on with Merrill, and I’m sure she would if we don’t do something about it, Then it would just be  _ three  _ of them together. I bet Isabela has been waiting for a new face to ‘spice up’ their relationship.”

“...That’s a surprisingly reasonable thought!” As Anders acknowledged the situation, he felt Justice’s sudden nudge.  **We support this boy.**

_ Now I’d really have to ask, why are you- _

“Tomorrow! I’ll just confess to her tomorrow. Please, Marian has been dragging me everywhere, and I really had no time to meet Merrill lately. I’ll pretend to be sick and you’ll just have to back me up. You’re the healer here and if anyone could fool Marian, It would be you.”

Carver tried his best to look pitiable and vulnerable with his hands clasped. “Please? Now that you have your pet elf, show some mercy to this lonely soul.”

“My pet what?” Anders’ talk was cut off as Justice intercepted. “ **Do not worry. Leave it to us, Mortal.** ” “I mean Carver.” Anders pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And, just for the record. There is nothing between me and Fenris.” Anders knew that wasn’t precisely true but he didn't want to reveal his unrequited... emotions to anyone, when even he himself was still in denial. 

“Yes-yes, cause I suddenly went blind, I bet he’s standing right outside door eavesdropping-”

“Do you want my help or what?” 

“Or your help would be just fine for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Illenium-Crashing(ft.Bahari) #mood


	12. Deceit

Isabela stopped her card dealing hands as she saw Fenris hurriedly follow the healer out of the suite. The elf was always nimble and quite stealthy for a warrior, but even the lyrium ‘ghost’ couldn’t hide from the pirate’s hawkish eye. 

Right after Fenris went around the corner, Isabela made a beckoning motion and drew everyone’s attention to the now empty seats. “What did I say? Our gentlemen decided they needed some alone time together. It would be ten silvers, all my good messere.” and Marian repeated with a much louder voice. “Ten silvers! Everyone.” and the two notorious rogues held out their hands. 

“Gah! Should’ve changed the bet.” Varric threw his cards away and reached for his coin purse but Bethany clutched it sealed right before he pulled the coins out. “Not a coin before we get direct evidence.” Bethany said with an awfully sober voice and Sebastian nodded beside her. 

“Are you going to say that the Darktown dwellers recognizing and greeting Fenris, Fenris’ loots reappearing in Anders’ clinic, and Anders seen in Hightown late at night are all mere coincidence? Come on!” Isabela said counting on her fingers and Marian threw helping words such as “I saw that too” or “Hard to deny that, huh?” but Aveline slowly shook her head with her arms crossed. “Circumstantial evidence doesn't count.”

“Aww, Fine. Izzy is feeling generous today.” and Isabela retreated her hand.

“How about a kis-” Before Fenris could hear more, the door shut in front of him and the rest of the sentence was muffled. Fenris hoped the situation would not lead to him carrying out such an act but Carver’s words more or less forced him to grudgingly press his ear against the door. 

Carver’s voice was cracking with agitation whereas Anders’ calmer. He tried to make out what was going on inside the room but the racket of the tavern and all the drunken singing mingled with lutes and pipes made it nearly impossible for him to determine anything.

Just when Fenris decided to leave after some moments spent fruitlessly, his ear caught the voice of Anders’ spirit and he was again glued to the door _. What’s happening? Are they fighting? Is he hurt?  _ He recalled that Justice would appear when the mage was faced with a threat and he was going to push the door open, but as his hand met the door knob, he swore he heard his own name uttered by the mage. 

_ Are they fighting because of…me?  _

All the possible(or rather unlikely) scenarios that could explain the situation crossed his mind in rapid succession. _ Carver might have found out that I’ve been together with the mage. Although it was certainly not ‘together’ together but… _ His thought went so far as to set such a conclusion in just a split second but he soon had to step away from the door since two pairs of footsteps were thumping toward him. 

Fenris narrowly escaped two men’s view as they exited the room and he stood there for a moment with jumbled thoughts, crossing out the hypothesis he formed a short time ago reminding no one actually seemed enraged and surely there was no fight. But since he couldn't come up with a better explanation, he too returned to Varric’s suite shortly after. 

Bethany shot Isabela a look and mouthed “See?” pointing at Anders returning with Carver and Isabela pretended to be ignorant eyeing elsewhere. The last empty seat was again filled after Fenris’ return and the game resumed as if nothing happened in between.

When it came to Carver’s turn to bet, he groaned and rubbed his temple. “I’m… not feeling well.” Seeing others not paying much attention, Anders reacted with a louder voice. “Carver, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” and he secretly made a little kick to Carver’s chair causing Carver to lose his balance, and he slumped onto Anders with a small yelp. 

“Oh, No!” Anders caught the warrior with an exaggerated motion and all the companions raised their eyes from their cards. “Carver!” Merrill was about to go around the table but Fenris was faster. 

“Your deceit fools no one!” 

As Fenris walked up to check on the limp warrior, Anders quickly turned his torso and shielded the man he’s holding from Fenris. And at the same time, he brought the supporting hand up to Carver’s face to hide his awful acting, ending up hugging the warrior. 

Fenris gritted his teeth and Isabela pinched her own thigh, trying her best not to ruin the precious spectacle with a laugh and Bethany was gawking at Fenris in disbelief. 

Anders brought the tiniest flame he could manage from the fade and rubbed it onto Carver’s forehead and pretended to be surprised. “Maker preserve! You’re burning like a fireball!” and Carver almost screamed in pain, making the whole scene all the more believable. 

“That’s because you threw me one, You idiot!” Carver swore but Anders made the most out of the clumsy liar’s mistake. “And delirious. This is not good.”

Marian quickly went to check on his brother’s condition and when her hands met her brother’s quite literally ‘burning hot’ skin, she pulled back her hand in shock. Anders decided that it was the chance to put a seal on his quest for Carver. 

He called out a blue haze directed at nowhere and started his medical gibberish. “I sense an infection on his upper respiratory tract up to the nasal cavity. Oh, his throat, sinuses and larynx are also affected.” Anders squeezed his eyes shut and continued in a serious tone. “Dyspnoea and mild conjunctivitis? His condition is worse than I thought.” Anders tried his best to make a common cold sound fatal, then he opened his eyes ever so slightly and observed Marian for her reaction. 

Suddenly, a sharp cry rang through the room like the sound of a siren. “OH! My poor baby Carver!” Marian clashed onto her brother and embraced him with all her might. “Sister...I.. can’t breath…” Carver made a strangled noise and tears burst out from the older Hawke’s eyes. “We even escaped the Blight… only to…” and she hiccuped. “Twenty years of loving and feeding and raising and… You’ve always been a bit of a tit but in the end, you were the one who stood by my side, looking after our family, we’ll miss you.”

“Sister, I’m not dead.” Carver grumbled and Marian turned to Anders, wiping away her tears, sniffling. “Please, tell me there is still a chance.” 

Anders quickly put his slack jaw back in place and replied. “S-sure. I took care of the fever so it’ll abate by the time you reach home. Just make sure that he gets enough rest and avoids doing any strenuous activities for…” Carver quickly mouthed. “A week.”

“A week.” Anders repeated and Marian nodded several times eagerly and carefully put Carver’s arm around her shoulder and supported him to stand, every movement so slow and attentive as if she was holding a delicate glass craft. 

Leaving the Hanged man, Carver turned his head and sent his secret helper a wink and Anders grinned in return. Bethany saw Fenris’ markings flared for a second and she reluctantly tossed coins to the pirate who was humming in victory. 

\---

Early in the morning, the Hawke twins were already bustling around in the empty house. Their older sister left for her mission, uncle hopefully to work and mother to the Viscount’s Keep, all of it composing an incredibly rare chance for Carver to prepare for his ‘big day’ and the twin had much to do.

“Where did all your money go? How come I can’t find  _ one _ decent shirt here?” Bethany was going through the heaped up clothes from the closet-or more like a frame draped with various wears, trying her best to match up one fine-looking set for her brother. “Please don’t tell me that all your coins went to a random prostitute at the Rose.”

Carver jumped up from the floor and almost yelled at his sister. “What? NO!” He was slightly huffing from doing press-ups. “Some went to the gift for today.” Carver tilted his head at the runestone he left on the nightstand. 

“And actually, all the other coins are serving Fereldans in the Darktown clinic.” Carver said a bit too proudly but Bethany didn’t fall for his brother’s ambiguous words. “So Anders did  _ that _ for you? Urg! He might be a bit short on money, running a free clinic and all that, I guessed that much, but was he just that desperate?” She shot Carver a disapproving glance and Carver stuttered. “Where are your thoughts going? That wasn’t what happened.” And he scratched his head. “At least not exactly…” and as he sensed a cracking energy from the fade, he quickly added. “No, just no. We’re not talking about this. Your brother is a better man than you tought and he made a lot of donations.” 

Bethany clucked but soon made a big grin. “I knew it was going to be like this.” and she went to her room and returned with a neatly folded shirt. “Sebastian helped me with this, You can thank me later.” She winked and Carver gaped as the impeccable white shirt decorated with garish laces unfolded in front of him. “You want me to wear this? In Lowtown? That dear prince of yours seriously has no sense of reality.” Carver shoved the shirt back to his pouting sister. 

“And besides, What’s wrong with my vest, I think it better shows my…” Carver posed his arm and flexed his wrist, showing the pumped bicep. “Bodily charm.” which made Bethany roll her eyes and she slapped Carver’s sweat-glistening arm. “I hate to break it to you, but not all girls are into ‘muscle pigs’.” She stuck her tongue out and Carver shouted. “Hey, take that back!” 

Knock Knock - “Is anyone home? This is Merrill.”

The bickering twins froze on the spot at the sound of timid knocks followed by a slightly quivering voice. “ _ Shit! _ what do I do?” Carver said, trying his best to keep his voice down and Bethany replied in earnest, giving a firm hold on her brother’s shoulder. “Brother, it seems like this will be the moment of truth. May the maker watch over you.” Then she went to greet Merrill and Carver flurried a bit but eventually decided to jump back into his bed, thinking it would be better to pretend to be still sick. 

“Hi! Merrill, my sister left early so you might have to come back later.” Bethany forced a natural smile but Merrill seemed even more unnatural. “I-I’m actually here for Carver. I was worried about him, he seemed really unwell yesterday and I… It’s not weird to visit a sick friend right?” 

Bethany scoffed.  _ What- why did I hold off my date to help that idiot. _

Merrill rambled more seeing Bethany’s unexpected reaction. “I brewed some potion and- and I assure you no blood magic is involved, just Dalish remedy. I brought porridge too, you- you want to share?” Merrill studied Bethany’s face and Bethany returned a smirk. “Oh, how sweet of you, make sure you slowly spoon-feed my brother, he’s so feverish right now. Please take good care of him.” and she left the house right the way through the front door which Merrill just passed. Then, Merrill was at a loss in the now too quiet house, left only with her crush and she took a deep breath. 

“Carver…?” Merrill carefully entered Carver’s room and Carver made fake coughs. “Merrill, I’m sorry, being a terrible host.” Carver tried to raise himself from the bed but Merrill pushed him down. “You are all sweaty” She sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Carver’s head and Carver felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. “The fever dropped… Would you like to eat something?” Merrill wasn’t sure if she could hold the spoon steady seeing the handsome warrior slightly flushed, with dark hair clinging to his face.

Carver took the hand placed on his forehead and sat up to meet Merrill’s eyes. Merrill held her breath and gasped as Carver’s other hand holding something cold folded on her hand. She looked down and found out that it was a runestone with Dalish symbols etched on it. “Carver…”

_ No nonsense, just say the words that I’ve always wanted to say. _ Carver pushed away a thousand colorful words that weren't his own and began.

“Merrill. Even as I am giving it to you, I do not know the meaning of it. The time with me will always be like this. I don’t fully understand the task you are dedicating yourself to, and I don’t share your legacy but…” Carver slowly blinked and gathered his last courage.

“But I will be there for you if you ever feel lonely. I am in love with you.”

“I… am in love with you…” Merrill slowly repeated the words, dwelling upon them, still afraid that there could be another meaning she did not catch. But the message was clear and the hands on hers were warm. She was ready to give an answer. 


	13. A Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These guys need to talk. At the same time, they talk too much.

A bad day for Hawke usually meant a bad day for everyone, and the day was exactly that. A mission, assumed even at worst would just cause a risible scene of a bunch of heavily armed misfits meddling in some noble’s frivolous love quarrel, had an end of a heap of dry bones topped with the ring which the husband was so insistent on retrieving.

Both mentally and physically eroded, the party decided to part their ways exiting the Lowtown foundry. For Anders, somehow the aftertaste of the day felt awfully familiar. He had an ardent wish for some alcohol to wash it away and that reminded him exactly where the familiarly came from. 

The Warden days. After every hard mission, the Warden-Commander used to buy everyone drinks and Anders often poured his heart out to the Commander after just a bottle. Then he would wake up under the table the next morning, grunting in massive hangover but at the same time, crumpling up another desertion plan and throwing it away. That was how Surana kept everyone in line. 

Pour his heart out.  _ Yes... might just work for Fenris.  _

Anders turned back and walked in brisk steps to catch up with Fenris who was just setting out for Hightown. He called out using the kindest variant of his voice, and gently placed his hand on Fenris’ shoulder to bring him to a halt. Fenris flinched but did not back away from his touch. 

“A, Anders…” For a moment Anders marveled Fenris’ hoarse voice which could make any word sound so very… heartrending, and it took some effort for him to recollect what he was going to say. “Care for a drink? ...At my place that is. We can talk over-. Um, you know Justice don’t let me drink anymore and a patient of mine brought me a few bottles-” 

_ Wow this is going nowhere. I should really stop spending more time with Carver.  _

While Anders was astounded by himself stumbling through words, Fenris delivered a prompt acceptance and he was ever so thankful that it came before he could embarrass himself more. Meanwhile Fenris worried if his answer went too soon, giving away how much he appreciated Anders’ invitation.

\---

Alcohol surely worked wonders. 

Anders poured barely more than a few drops for himself from the bottle which Fenris had been drinking directly from. “I think Justice will let it slide.” Anders winked, then clinked his-as good as empty-mug(which usually contained tea to keep him awake though many manifesto-nights) and drank. Fenris complied. Quaffing whatever was in the bottle, he wondered if Anders’ uninhibitedness was just ‘a Warden thing’ or they actually came to be this intimate. He suspected the former but their knee-touching closeness spoke otherwise and Fenris decided to let the inebriation blur his reasoning.

On the other hand, Anders was secretly holding onto his sobriety. Now he knew the reason why he could never drink Surana under the table and how come she knew everything about him. He was confident that he'd find out everything that happened in Seheron before morning.

The actual taste of the liquor was coming to Fenris only now, as he had been practically chugging it down to resolve the initial nervousness. He himself couldn’t understand why he started to fret from the moment Anders accosted him. Surely there had always been a bit of agitation stepping into others' personal space, especially when it was welcoming. Like the time Hawke invited him to her family dinner. The reason why it was hard to talk to the elder of the family wasn’t because he didn’t know how to talk to elderly people, but because he didn’t know how to talk to the ones he wanted to be in their good books. It took him every bit of vigilance to take a grip on himself through the supper which seemed to go on forever, amid all the uncomfortably personal questions from Leandra (why did she care so much about his overall well-being and what he thought of her daughter?), accompanied by Gamlen’s judgemental grunts. 

However, with Anders, everything was the exact opposite. He strived to lose his senses. ‘Act normal’ was the one phrase he had been telling himself till he entered the back room of the clinic, but the intangible anxiousness made him as stiff as a doll carved in wood. It took way too long for him to come up with an answer when Anders asked ‘how did he like it’ since he had no idea what the first sip tasted like. 

But when the dulling warmth started to grow and the vision became not so strikingly clear, everything worked itself out.The idle talk about Hightown nobles jumped to the day’s incident, lingered in their common detestation for blood magic and proceeded to his former master. 

“Umm, Where was I?” Fenris’ brain short-circuited as he felt a finger grazed past his neck. Anders was now noticeably close, on his hand was his amulet. linked by a short cord with Anders, he swallowed and met his eyes. 

Holding the amulet he’d been wanting to ask about for some time, he just noticed that he was now very close to Fenris’ innocent looking face, with his eyes wide with… anticipation? At the sight, A sly wickedness sneaked into Anders’ mind but Justice immediately dissipated any ideas he had, vituperating him for his aberration and corruption. Anders shushed the spirit before the accusation became more explicit but he gathered himself. 

“You’ve been wearing this for as long as I remember. Kept as a souvenir from Danarious I presume? For your liberation.”

Fenris let out the breath he’d been holding. “Souvenir? He has already provided me plenty.” He opened one of his arms to show where the lyrium wasn’t being covered by his armour. “And his mansion as well. I regard these as my severance pay. Such generosity.” Then he scoffed, shaking his head. Anders watched Fenris drain what little was left in the bottle.

Humour… A pitch-black one but humour nonetheless. Anders didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“It’s the Fog Warrior’s gift.” After a mildly burning feeling of alcohol passed his throat, Fenris uttered incautiously. But as soon as the word ‘Fog Warrior’ left his tongue he felt a sudden chill on the back of his neck. 

Anders sensed Fenris’ dithering but he feigned ignorance. “Fog Warriors? A good name. You see, we had these people called ‘Ash Warriors’ in Ferelden-” Anders slightly shifted the subject, easing the tension. Anders made his talk sound like a drunkard's rambling, but the topic never deviated more from there. 

“Fearless folks I heard, with their savage mabaris. They had the body paintings on their dogs,” Anders waved his finger in the air drawing curved lines and slightly slurred his words. “like- something like this, I don’t know. Said could add to their dexterity and defense but didn’t care much about how it worked, Not a dog person.” and he shrugged. 

Fenris seemed somewhat relaxed, however his smile seemed a little forced.  _ There’s definitely something up with it. _ Anders’ conviction was further added by Fenris’ behavior.

“The Commander didn’t care much for them though, they had shown no respect for her she said, for her being an elf and all…” Anders directed his gaze back to Fenris. “Those people, were they nice to you?”

Ambushed by the question that came without warning, too many images and thoughts went into Fenris’ now hardly functioning brain. Just ‘nice’ would be such an understatement but Fenris had little choice. “Yes… They were.” was the best he could come up with. 

Fenris thought he provided little to no information but Anders already read much from the short answer. So the ‘Fog Warriors’ wasn’t just a vague title but the people that actually exist and whatever happened was personal to him. 

“Never heard of ’em though. So where did you meet these people?” Asking in an indifferent tone, Anders lazily trailed the rim of his empty mug with his finger and stared blankly at the bottom of it, so that his questions would sound less like an interrogation but more like a meaningless question. 

“The name seems less Tevene, Are they from Par Vollen?” Anders deliberately made a pause. “...Or maybe Seheron?” 

Anders lifted his gaze a bit to scrutinize Fenris and found out that he was now visibly uncomfortable. 

“It… is complicated.” and the evasive response ensued. 

“The night is still young.” but Anders didn’t yield. 

_ No, anything but that. _ With a dulled mind, gruesome memories entered Fenris mercilessly. He was now hoping almost desperately for Anders to give up his inquiry. 

Normally during their sessions, Anders was distant, but in a very understanding way. Being an attentive audience, he did not press on the topics that Fenris wished to avoid. But now, Anders was being overtly sympathetic but also way more careless. 

But it also meant for the first time, Anders was making a move to step out of their businesslike doctor-patient relationship, it was something more than he could hope for, but Fenris couldn’t comply. All because of no one but himself 

\- His sin.

Was it remorse? despair or guilt? He couldn’t discern, but whatever rooted inside him now was hurting, to the extent that the pain was becoming physical. 

Anders waited, and  carefully observed the obviously distressed man in front of him. Fenris breathed in, and closed his eyes. it seemed like he was holding back a burst of emotion, or straightening his thoughts. 

_ Sorry Fenris, but this has to be done... For you. _ Anders conjectured he was now recollecting something from his past. Though it might be painful, this was something Fenris wanted and couldn’t leave behind. And Anders was determined to deliver all to him. 

“Did something happen to them…? Was it  Danarious? T he war? In war, even good people can-”

“No.”

Fenris exhaled.

“I… I happened to them.”


	14. Reality Check

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mention of past Danarius/Fenris. Headcanoned tweaks on Fenris’ past.

“...What?”

Anders hesitated for a moment for he had to choose a fitting response, maybe a few words of consolation. However, he had a sense of foreboding that what Fenris was about to say would be nothing he had predicted nor intended to induce. And that ‘something’ couldn’t possibly be alleviated with just a few words. 

“I… I don’t follow.”

_ ‘Even good people’… Yes they were certainly that.  _

Fenris had a sudden urge to come clean about everything. But at the same time, he feared for what doing so might bring. And he despised himself for that. That even upon an unforgivable deed he had committed, he still wanted to remain as a good person, at least an innocent victim to Anders. 

“Fenris… talk to me. I understand that it might be hard for you, but you don’t have to bear everything on your own. Maybe we can work this out togeth-”

“I-” Said Fenris, cutting Anders off. He couldn’t stand any more of Anders’ kindness that he reckoned he didn’t deserve. 

“I’m saying that I was the one who killed them. -All of them.”

  
  


“You did… what?”

Fenris didn’t have the courage to face the man in front of him. But he knew he had to confess. Which he believed was the least respect he could pay for the ones that died by his hand. 

Fenris covered his eyes with both his hands. He remained still for a moment and then, took a long breath and swept his face. 

“Fog Warriors. They were the rebels in the Seheron jungles.” The more he talked, the clearer the image of that time became. Fenris felt he was slowly pulled back onto the island. That humid air, carrying the smell of sulfur and iron.

“I was with Danarius in Seheron during a Qunari attack.” Now Fenris could almost hear the screams, clashing of swords and feel low buzzing energy from the Fade. “I managed to get him to a ship, but there was no room for a slave. I was left behind. I barely got out of the city alive. Those people... they found me and took me in, nursed me back to health. I stayed with them for a time, Until-”

The Image of Seheron completely took over. Through the dense jungle, appeared the one silhouette he could never mistake. He prayed for it to be a hallucination. And the silhouette turned and revealed its face. The grey eyes pierced right through him.  _ Missed your master, My little wolf? _

He felt his blood curdle within him. 

“My master finally came for me. When Master came, they refused to let him take me. He ordered me to kill them.”

He felt shrill ringing in his ears and his vision narrowed. 

“So I did. I killed them all. They didn’t fight back. No, they tried to wake me. And I took advantage of their trust. I... didn’t even close their eyes.”

The re-living ended, and Fenris’ gaze focused on an empty spot at void. “And now I wish for redemption for myself? No… If there ever was justice, the Maker will not allow-”

“Fenris, please. Fenris!” 

All of a sudden, the air-rending ringing and dark corners formed upon Fenris’ vision vanished. 

“Stop-stop! You’re hurting yourself.” 

Only then the man in front of him came back into Fenris’ view. Shortly after, he felt a sting on his palm. He looked down and the first thing he saw was blackish red. 

His gauntlet was digging into his palm and viscous blood was already dripping. And another hand was wringing into his clenched fist, trying to stop the hard metal from cutting in further. Upon seeing the sharp edge was already sunken into the other man’s finger, Fenris abruptly pulled back his hand as if he had touched fire. And it unintentionally left a rather deep cut on Anders’ fingers and the man hissed in pain. 

“I- I’m sorry.” Fenris stammered. 

“Fenris… If I had known-” Anders was covering his wounded hand with the other. He leaned lower to meet Fenris’ eyes hidden under white hair draped down from his ducked head. 

Fenris still couldn’t look at the man , by whom he rather wished to be detested. Yet Anders just had to be utterly altruistic. A healer to the end. 

Fenris turned away. “Can-can we continue some other time? Pardon my-”  _ What. Massacre? Deception? _ Fenris ridiculed himself and once more hated himself that even now he still wanted to secure another session with the healer. “...outburst.”

Yet he couldn't stay any longer. The healer’s geniality was smothering him. “I should go.”

“It’s late, and you must be too drunk to-”

Fenris tottered on his feet and walked with somewhat unsteady steps. Anders followed, trying to support him but Fenris dodged Anders’ helping hand. He bowed slightly as a substitute for farewell and left. 

\---

Fenris knew he couldn’t possibly make it to the Hightown and he was right. So his only choice was the first inn that came into his sight. 

He put however much he had on him on the old counter and stumbled through the corridor to the borrowed room. Quickly, he shut the door and locked it as if a ghost had been tagging along behind him. 

Blankly staring up at the shabby wooden ceiling that didn’t have a massive hole in it to bare Kirwall’s night sky, he once again questioned his own aim at recovering his memory. 

  
  


\---

  
  


When the first ray of light shone through the split on the metal vessel he was encased in, Fenris was barely conscious due to the agony of every living tissue composing him shredded with liquid minerals. Lyrium permeated deeper and deeper into his skin and at last, completely embedded within its new habitat, merging with the fiber. The searing pain clung to him from inside out. 

The altar hatched and Fenris collapsed out of it. 

“Fenris. My little wolf.” a voice came from above. “From today on, you are a new man.”

A burst of magic paralyzed him, and the excruciating pain mitigated ever so slightly. 

That first ‘mercy’ should have never happened. 

  
  


The one wholly deprived of even the most basic form of affection, often starts to find it from its metonymies. Projecting what one needs onto a false idol. Like orphaned animals seeing their parents in a tree stump or tattered fabric, from those, they would seek warmth that will never come.

Fenris was no different.

Danarius was the one who named him, fed him and owned him. A parent, mentor, companion, he was none of it. But for Fenris, he was everything. 

Few words of praise, came after every task he had accomplished successfully, became the purpose of his life. So when he found out that Danarius desired him in another way, he saw it as the evidence. The evidence that his supposition was correct. That he was in a way, being loved. 

Fenris’ instinct sent him a dire warning. As his master’s touch gradually became more indecent, his skin prickled with mortifying discomfort and he could feel disgust from the back of his throat. But his quite literally brainwashed mind won him over. The mere fact that he could be desired in such a way was already too precious of a discovery for him to let go. 

Naturally, he found nothing he had hoped for in the act. Proven to be completely wrong, his mind deviced another excuse to cope with what he had to endure. That at least he could find it as a physical outlet. Moreover, all the rhetoric phrases granted ‘love’ undeserved worth. What he had hoped never existed in the first place. 

Fenris was clever. He knew what he taught himself was preposterous. However he had no choice but to accept his own sophistry for not doing so made his life unbearable. Besides, what did he know of anything when he had only a few years of experience in life?

-

One swelteringly hot day, he was at a rocky shore of Seheron, watching the ship which had his master on board pulling out from the pandemonium behind him. “Do you have any idea how much that lyrium costs? It’s worth more than all you peasant’s head-”

_ That lyrium. _

Danarius’ infuriated voice slowly faded out and Fenris was once again…  _ hurt _ . As if he still held onto some expectation that his master might-. 

But no. He was nothing more than a right gear to work his lyrium. For a moment, he thought of accepting his death in the place right where he had lost all his given purpose. However this time, he decided to listen to his instinct. He escaped the city. 

-

“Ooh, shiny. Could it be lyrium?” 

-a slap 

“Don’t touch him. He’s still recovering, Don’t you have better things to do? Shoo-”

Fenris slowly opened his eyes. “He’s awake!”

“Aha, what did I say? Old doc’s skills are still sharp!”

Fenris found himself on the last bed of a dozen others arranged in a row. An infirmary? He looked around and raised himself up. Curious pairs of eyes all focused on him. 

“You’ve been unconscious for days. We found you near the city gate and brought you here.” The old man referred to himself as ‘doc’ said. 

“What’s your name, young fella?”

“I… I’m sorry?”

_ Why would anyone ask my name? _ was Fenris’ first reaction. As a slave, all the people who gave him orders already knew who he was, the guests never cared what a petty slave is being called and obviously, there was no way that he could take his sweet time with an enemy to have a nice introduction with each other. 

“Name, dummy!” A young looking boy raised his voice from a distance, watching a boiling pot. 

“-Fenris. I’m Fenris.” 

“Little wolf? hmm…” A woman holding soiled clothes stopped to eye him up and down. “That works I guess.” and another pushed her back to her work “Rude.”

Everyone in the Infirmary was doing their own work but all paying a bit of attention to him. All in a non-hostile way. Most of the people were wearing white-even their armour. The situation was all too alien and unrealistic that Fenris wondered if he was dreaming. But soon as his reality check was completed, he tried to leave. 

“My master must be looking for me-”

“Don’t you move dammit!” 

Fenris tried to refute but a sharp pain coming from his wound stopped him. “See? I’ve bent seven  _ Seven _ ! needles to sew you and whatever that blue thing in your skin is up so don’t ruin it.” Fenris only then noticed that his torso was bandaged, and there was a long stain formed on it indicating how big of a wound covered underneath it was. 

“But My master-”

“Master this- Mistress that- You Vints are all the same.” 

“Hey hey, you’re scaring him. So who is this master of yours?” A man in white armour who had his wound treated said, standing up from what seemed like an operating chair, still fastening his bandage. 

“Da-” Calling out his master’s name felt like such a taboo to Fenris. To him, it was always my master and occasionally Master Danarius. But never just the name. But any honorific seemed out of place in this situation. “Danarius.” said Fenris, slightly hesitating. 

“Danar- what? That’s a mouthful.” The man shrugged, slightly grinning and Fenris immediately shot back. Which was out of an ‘occupational hazard’ “Watch your tongue! No one lives-”

“Did you all hear that lads?” The man and others in the room laughed. “No one lives what? Fail to pronounce your master’s name?” The man said, shaking his head. “And besides, he is hardly your master anymore is he?”

Fenris was perplexed. “My…” and he chose to shut his mouth before he could make a complete fool out of himself. 

“Anyway, do enjoy that bed of yours. You are staying with us.” He said leaving the Infirmary. 

Fenris placed his gaze back onto the old doc. “They call us Fog Warriors.”


End file.
